This, And So Much More
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Dean and Cas discover how they feel about each other, and what to do about it. It's not easy, since they're both new to this kind of thing. Sam is an awesome brother, even if his help is less than helpful at times. Rife with denial and misunderstanding.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For any impatient people out there that are interested in reading this, it's complete, and posted at my LJ, but will be updated here every day or two. http:// rockstarpeach. livejournal. com/ 74341. html

Title: This, And So Much More

Rating: Adult

Genre and/or Pairing: Romance, Dean/Cas

Spoilers: Season 5, but only a few throw-away details. You could probably read this without spoiling the season.

Warnings: None, really. Boy!love and jealousy and violence and schmoop and idiocy… the usual suspects.

Word Count: In total ~80,000

Summary: It's sort of the story of how Dean realises, and admits to, how he really feels about Cas. Sam helps him out, because he's an awesome brother, even if his help ends up being less than helpful at times. Cas figures some things out as well, but it's never as easy as you hope it is. Packed full of denial and misunderstanding, the boys try to figure out the intricacies of their new emotional and physical relationship. Adult.

***

Part 1 – The boys crash a Christmas party, and Dean gets jealous, even if he won't admit it.

Dean loved parties. Especially parties with plenty of food, and free flowing alcohol, and fun, beautiful people. And yes, okay, so they were in the middle of the apocalypse, and up to their asses in demons and hellbeasts, but that didn't mean they couldn't take time out, couldn't make time to have a little fun, right?

"Dean," Sam sighed, and drummed his fingers on the roof of the car, leaning against the passenger side door. He spared a glance at the strip mall, to the loud, bright store, three down from where they were parked, and then back to Dean. "Bobby called hours ago about those demons in Tulsa. We need to get going."

"Sam's right, Dean," Castiel added, though Dean didn't bother turning to look at him, just kept his sad attempt at puppy eyes trained on Sam. And if the angel's voice sounded a little colder than it usually did, Dean didn't wonder why. If he was tired of babysitting their sorry asses, well, nobody was forcing him to stick around. But Dean was kind of glad he did. "We have work to do."

"Aw, come on." Dean's face was an attempt at a smile as he cocked his head toward the store. He tried to make his voice sound light, holding the promise of a good time, but he was pretty sure that he just sounded wheedling, like a little kid. He mentally shrugged. Whatever. He didn't really care if he sounded stupid, just as long as he could get Sam to agree with him.

They'd spent the afternoon of December 23rd working, saving the setting up, and subsequent having, of an office Christmas party at the downtown Xerox place, from one seriously pissed off ghost of Christmas past. The girl who worked as the assistant manager had taken a particular interest in Dean, and when they'd finally iced the ghost, she'd invited him to stay for the party, which had unfortunately started mid-hunt.

It turned out okay though, with nobody dead (but the ghost), and most people thinking the whole event was just some cool party trick.

"One night," Dean pleaded, letting the idea of one free night, of drinks and food and girls wash over him and drown him in happy oblivion. God, it had been a while. Turned out, starting the end of the world wasn't as much fun as it sounded. "Just one. The demons'll still be there tomorrow. Come on, Sammy," he said with a smirk when he saw Sam's resolve start to crumble, his stern face loosening slightly. "We could all do with a few hours off."

Yeah, they could. They'd been working too damn hard lately, and Sam knew it. Fuck, even Cas knew it. But Sam was having a hard time getting over his guilt, and he was reluctant to take any time for himself these days, even just a night. "Dean…"

"Dude, come on, man, it's Christmas, for fuck's sake! And there's booze in there! And hot chicks," Dean added, with a playful raise of his eyebrow. Not that either of those would convince Sam, but he was hoping his own enthusiasm would be contagious.

Sam snorted, and shook his head, cracking a slight smile. Oh yeah, he was on the hook, alright. "Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what Jesus had in mind for celebrating his birth."

"Actually," Dean heard Castiel say, his voice surprisingly light considering the subject matter, and the way he normally spoke. It was possible that this passed for small talk with him, and that… that Dean thought was pretty damn fascinating. "Christ wasn't born on the 25th of December. It was…"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes, even as Sam's smile spread, and he finally turned his head to look at Castiel, standing next to him, near the back door of the Impala. The Christmas before Dean went to Hell, Sam had explained to him that Christmas and everything about it was effectively bullshit, from a religious standpoint. Right before he'd gone and made it the best Christmas Dean had ever had. "Sam's already spoiled the holiday for me, thanks. Shit, it's symbolic, okay? Can't we just… have fun?"

He smiled at Cas over his last words, lips quirked up just on one side of his mouth, and his eyes were drawn, downward slightly, and tight. He knew what he was doing, knew he couldn't pull off the puppy eyes like Sam could, but he also knew that Castiel had a soft spot for him, and if either of the other men were likely to agree, and let them stay, it was going to be Cas.

He heard Sam heave out a frustrated breath, but ignored him, and kept on smiling at Cas. It was his better bet. And then, Cas smiled back, because lately, for some reason, Cas had been smiling back at him, and it was… nice. Dean couldn't really say why, but every little line in Castiel's face, every crinkle next to his eye, or upturn of his lip, no matter how slight, made Dean's heart speed up, and his pulse quicken. Made him feel like just maybe, everything was going to turn out okay. Gave him hope, stupid as it made him feel.

Happy looked good on Cas, and yeah, okay, so Dean wouldn't really describe any way that Cas every looked _happy_, exactly, but whatever was going on lately, looked a hell of a lot better on him that what Dean was used to.

Castiel didn't answer, just stared at Dean steadily, head tilted just that little bit to the right, letting Dean know he was either thinking damn hard about something, or pretty damn amused, but that was okay. Dean figured he was probably going to agree, so he didn't actually give him the chance to say anything, just in case he was wrong. He ignored Sam's huff of breath when he knew he was losing, and clapped a hand over Cas's shoulder, squeezing. "Awesome," he said smiling brightly, and let his hand slide down Cas' arm a bit, fingers moving across the sharp bone of his elbow. "Let's go!"

He turned and stepped onto the sidewalk, heading toward the store with a bounce in his step, and didn't bother looking back to make sure he was being followed.

***

Once inside, Dean helped himself to a handful of peanuts, and a bright red plastic cup full of beer, and stood back, nodding his head absently to the cheesy Christmas rock coming from a tinny radio behind the service desk. The store was pretty big, and the party was a decent size (probably around 50 people, and there was no way 50 people even worked in this store, so a lot of them had probably brought friends), so he didn't spot Shelly, the girl who'd invited him, immediately.

He scanned the crowd and grabbed another handful of peanuts, stuffing them into his mouth just as Sam came up to stand next to him, Cas hovering just behind. "These are good," he grinned, around his mouthful. "Honey roasted, dude. Try some!"

Sam pulled a face a shook his head, but he did pick up one of the much less cooler plastic cups, blue, and filled with some kind of fruity girly drink, so Dean counted it as a win. He swallowed his food and he raised his eyebrows happily, and picked up another red cup, turning around and handing it to Cas.

"Drink up, buddy," he said, as Cas took the drink from him, and stared at it suspiciously. "It's beer, Cas," Dean offered helpfully. "You've had it before. Liked it even." He knew beer didn't really effect the angel all that much, and really, that was a good thing, because while a drunk Cas would be fucking awesome, he didn't really want to be on angel-sitting duty tonight. He wanted to have fun.

And he wanted Cas to have fun. It was a party; that's what people did. And if anyone deserved a few beers, and a little down time, it was Cas. The fact that Dean was maybe looking forward to seeing him loosen up a little, smile some more, because he was kind of starting to like the way the sight of Cas without the stick up his ass gave him butterflies, well, he wasn't going to dwell on it.

Cas was his friend, and he just wanted him to have a little fun.

He nodded encouragingly, and Castiel brought the cup to his lip, taking a tentative sip, his eyes tight. He swallowed, and Sam snorted, and Dean clapped Cas on the arm. He spotted Shelly halfway across the room, standing next to another fairly pretty girl, and he had the fleeting thought that he could maybe get them both into bed tonight, if he played his cards right.

"Show time," he said, and gave Cas one more pat on the arm, before elbowing Sam in the ribs, as he slid between them and walked towards the girls.

The girl Shelly was talking to, Maria, happened to be married to Mark, who worked at the corporate office, so it looked like a threesome was out. Which was okay, really, because Shelly looked like she'd be more than enough for him, all legs and long brown hair, and fire.

And she was funny too, which was nice, since he had to spend time actually talking with her. She didn't want to leave the party yet, and honestly neither did he, and the small talk was far from forced between them. Judging by the way her hand was subtly sliding lower and lower across his torso, and her lips were brushing against the skin of his neck when she leaned in to be heard over the music and the crowd, the sex was going to seem pretty natural as well. It was going to be a good night.

Half an hour had passed, much to Dean's surprise, and Maria had wandered off somewhere, leaving Dean and Shelly alone. Dean had finished his beer, and an eggnog, and was working on another, when he dragged his eyes away from his date's chest and let them drift over the rest of the party.

Lame music still echoed through the large room, and people danced in the cleared out centre, couples 'accidentally' stepped under the mistletoe and puckered up, and Dean grinned at them, his fingers clenching gently around Shelly's side. There were twinkle lights everywhere, garland and tinsel and a huge plastic tree in the corner, dressed to the nines, and Dean really kind of liked it. He hadn't had a full-on Christmas in longer than he could remember. Not since Sam was born.

And on the topic of Sam… He spotted him, standing between a man and a woman, though a little closer to the woman, and he smiled to himself, thinking that Sam just might get lucky tonight as well. He needed it. Might make him a little less bitchy. His mental smile turned to a frown almost a second later, when he realised Cas wasn't with him. He experienced a brief twinge of panic in his chest at that, though he couldn't put his finger on why, exactly.

Cas had a pretty steady habit of angeling himself off to God knows where, and sometimes even in the middle of conversations, so it shouldn't really surprise him or disappoint him that Cas would take off now. It did though. Disappoint him. He kind of wanted Cas to have a good time tonight too. And Dean usually felt just a little bit better about things when Castiel was around.

"Your friend doesn't look like he's having fun," Shelly said, shifting a little closer to his side, and Dean started, shook his head.

"Huh?"

"Your friend," she smiled. "Castiel. He's been standing in the corner over there practically since you got here." Dean turned his head to one corner of the room, and then another, spotting Cas standing in a ridiculous looking halo of blue and red and green bulbs, wrapped around a wire mesh wreath and hung from the ceiling above his head.

Dean actually let out a small burst of laughter at that, and wondered if Castiel had stood there on purpose. Shelly turned her head to look at him quizzically, probably wondering why he thought his buddy standing alone, nothing but a pathetically half-dead, potted ficus for company, was funny.

"No, sorry, it's just… Never mind," he told her, shaking his head, and still smiling. When he turned back to look at Cas, the angel's eyes skittered away, suspiciously quickly, suddenly finding the way the star on top of the Christmas tree to his left seemed to be tilting where it wasn't quite able to fit between the tree and the ceiling. Dean frowned.

"Yeah, he's been staring at you the whole time, too. It looks like he really doesn't want to be here. Not really a people person, huh?"

Dean snickered, and took another drink of his eggnog. "No. No, not really."

"I feel bad. Maybe you guys shouldn't have come. You know… if he's having such a bad time…"

"No!" Dean said, a little too quickly. "No, we're good. We're staying." Yeah, Cas looked so incredibly out of place it wasn't even funny, and Dean really did feel bad about that, because, yeah. Happy Cas equalled Happy Dean, but for fuck's sake! It had been months since Dean had gotten laid, and even longer since he'd just kicked back and blown off some steam, tried to forget that the world was ending, and he wasn't sure that they could stop it.

He wanted this, and dammit, he was gonna get it. Because if he didn't, he might have to kill Cas, and that would kind of suck. He was getting used to having him around. He huffed out a breath and slid his arm up to wrap around Shelly's shoulders, and started to walk her forward. "Let's go talk to him for a bit. Maybe…"

He trailed off and froze, when someone stepped in front of Cas, blocking Dean's view of him for a second, until Dean moved a couple of steps to the left, so he could see better. 'Someone' was a leggy redhead, wearing a shirt that looked a size too small, and very low-cut, a skirt she couldn't bend over in without getting arrested, and heels that looked almost impossible to walk in.

She looked easy, and Dean couldn't see her face, but her body was smokin', and she was just the type of girl that Dean would usually go for. Pretty and soft and easily forgettable the morning after. He felt an odd twinge of… something, he couldn't really put his finger on, at the thought of Cas getting up to the kinds of things with that girl that Dean would get up to with her, but he shook it off.

Cas was a big boy, and he could handle himself. Okay, so he hadn't done such a bang-up job of handling himself when they'd gone to the whorehouse a while back, but he was learning. It helped that Dean had stopped trying to get him laid after that, that he'd just accepted that maybe Cas wasn't interested in random sex with random women. If he was even interested in sex at all.

But maybe some one on one time with a hot chick was what Cas needed, to help loosen him up. So Dean held off going to talk to him, and just watched, stomping on the urge to go over and help him out. Or, you know, run interference if Cas looked like he was getting a little more twitchy than normal.

The girl shifted her weight so she was putting most of it on one leg, tilting her hips to show off their nice shape, and she turned her head a little. Dean could see she was smiling, and it actually looked pretty genuine, and the light touch of her fingers over Castiel's forearm was meant to be seductive, abso-freakin'-lutely, but it also seemed almost tentative.

And then the hand that was headed for her hair, likely to swirl some of her auburn locks around a well-manicured finger, teasing and coy, but the motion was aborted, and she blushed, and instead ducked her head, and fingered the side of her neck. Almost like she was suddenly nervous.

Hey, it wasn't like Dean couldn't relate to that. Sometimes Castiel could get kind of intense, the way he talked to you, looked at you. Sometimes it cowed Dean, made him drop his eyes, look away, _shiver_. Hell, at least this girl was able to flirt. Kind of. When Cas pulled that shit on him, Dean mostly just wanted to either crawl in a hole, or throw himself at Cas's feet, and apologise. Or possibly punch him, but the one time he tried that, it didn't work out very well for him.

Though, that girl didn't really know Cas, and last Dean checked, cruising for a hook-up wasn't exactly a crime worthy of heavenly smite, so she was probably pretty safe.

Cas scowled, Dean smirked, and Shelly kissed his neck. The redhead stepped closer to Cas, and Cas stood up straighter, eyes widening comically when she leaned forward and whispered something into his ear.

It was probably something dirty, or at the very least a suggestion that they find some privacy, and Dean wondered how many times in the past thirty minutes Cas had been hit on. There looked to be over a dozen single girls here, and if any of them had eyes, then as soon as they realised Dean had already been scooped up for the evening they would have headed on over to Cas.

Not that Sam wasn't handsome, in that dorky sort of way, but if Dean had to switch teams for the night… well, Cas had that whole 'quiet authority' thing working for him, a kind of outward appearance of innocence that just begged for corruption. And he was… kind of hot.

Shelly's tongue sneaked out, licked across Dean's earlobe, and he jumped back, body tensing, and he blinked, and shook his head. Okay. That was just about enough eggnog for him. Cas wasn't… And Dean sure as _hell_ didn't… No, Cas was just an attractive man. Angel. Whatever. And Dean could appreciate that, in a totally objective way.

Especially when Castiel was staring at him again, looking over Redhead's shoulder and straight at Dean, those crazy fucking intense blue eyes of his, lids half lowered as his teeth worried over his plump bottom lip…

Dean straightened and cleared his throat, pressed two of his fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugged on it a few times, giving himself some more space to breathe. And yeah, he thought, looking at his cup and putting it down on the table behind with a decided thud. That was _more_ than enough fucking eggnog.

What the _fuck_?

He turned his head, tilted his chin down slightly, and the arm he had wrapped around Shelly shifted, his fingers moving her jaw, and tilted her face upward, brushing his lips against hers, interlocking them in a soft, moist kiss. It was particularly deep, but it held the promise of more when she shimmied up against him, and his dick gave an interested twitch in his pants. That was more like it.

When he pulled back he used his free hand and swiped his thumb across her top lip, messaging in the little bit of saliva he'd left there, and when he turned back around to look at Cas, he was alone, pointedly staring at the floor, while the chick he'd given the brush off too moved onto someone that would probably be a disappointment.

Dean sighed, and kissed Shelly on the forehead, told her to hold that thought, and four seconds later, he was standing in front of Castiel, face screwed up and hands moving back and forth in a 'what the fuck?' kind of way.

"Dude. What the hell?" he asked.

"Hello Dean," Cas said, ignoring Dean's question but for the slight narrowing of his eyes, and tilt of his head.

"Cas, man, that girl was into you. Why'd you scare her off?"

"I didn't _scare her off_, Dean," Cas told him, the words coming out on a slight sigh, like he was sick of explaining himself to Dean. Yeah, he was bored. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place, but standing there by himself, and staring at Dean actually trying to have fun all night sure as hell wasn't going to help. "She suggested we engage in sexual activity, and I told her that the last time I attempted something like that, the woman became offended, and threw the money my friend had paid her at my face."

"Oh, God, Cas!" Dean whined, and rubbed a hand over his face. It was like the whorehouse all over again. "You really are terrible with women, you know that? You should mingle a little. At least try to blend in. Who knows? You might actually have some fun."

"I fail to see the point. I don't know these people."

"That _is_ the point. _Get_ to know them."

"I'm not interested in…" Cas paused, and looked past Dean's shoulder and over to where Shelly stood, watching them and waiting for Dean to come back. He looked back at Dean pointedly, before he continued. "…Getting to know someone."

"Look, Cas, nobody is saying you have to… get to _know_ someone," he told him, because apparently that was the euphemism they were using for sex tonight. "But a little small talk won't kill you, will it?"

Cas still looked sceptical, so Dean sighed, and tried again. How could he put this so Cas got it? It wasn't just about getting laid, especially not for Cas, but they were so damn cut off. From life, from everything, and it was important that they have some sort of connection to it, to people, to the world, so they didn't forget what it was they were fighting for.

"You spend so much time watching people, Cas. And you're trying to save the damn world for us. You risk your life every day, went against everything you thought you knew, because it was right, because people matter. But you're so disconnected. I mean, you love us, because you were told to, but… I mean, don't you ever wonder if you actually _like_ people? On a.." he quirked a smile, and cocked his head. "You know, _personal_ level?"

Castiel didn't move, just blinked and his eyes softened just a little. "I didn't betray heaven for any of them, Dean." And then his eyes blew past soft and into downright twinkley, for Castiel. "And we both already know that I don't find you completely insufferable. Most of the time."

Dean smiled. "Was that a joke Cas? Well, then could you at least try to have a good time tonight? For me?"

Cas' lips did that almost smile thing again, and Dean felt those damn butterflies tickling his insides once more.

"Very well. I'll try to… blend."

Dean's grin grew, and he grabbed another cup of beer from a nearby table and shoved it into Cas' hand. "Awesome," he said, after downing the last of his eggnog. He thought about trying to introduce Cas to someone, get him starting to socialise, but he was done trying to get Cas laid if he didn't want it. Besides, too much of that shit, and he'd start to feel like a mom, setting her kid up on a playdate. And that was just all kinds of wrong.

He stood there for a few seconds, just staring at Cas, until Cas nodded once, letting Dean know he'd be okay on his own, and then Dean winked at him, turned, and went back to his date.

***

Castiel watched Dean walk back to his date, watched him smile slyly at her, watched him loop his arm loosely around her waist and pull her closer. He watched him lean down, barely touch his forehead to hers, nudge his nose against her cheek, and lean even closer, to press his lips to her ear, whisper something short, and by the look on her face, enticing.

Castiel had been watching Dean all night. No, that wasn't right, exactly. Castiel had been watching Dean all his life, but he'd never before had to stand there and watch, while Dean drank and laughed and worked his charms on a woman. That usually fell into the category of things that didn't need direct observation, and Castiel had never intruded, never watched things that would be inappropriate.

But now he didn't much have a choice. Dean had asked him to stay, asked him to stay with them, to enjoy himself, and as much as Castiel wanted to leave, to vanish and show up again in outer Mongolia, continue his search for God in the most unlikely of places, he couldn't. Not this time. He got the feeling that Dean needed this, needed this break, needed to let loose, needed for Sam and for Castiel to do the same.

Castiel wasn't the type to pander to needless vice, tended to look down his nose, and remove himself from the situation when too much time was taken for pleasure that could be better used in the fight against evil. But when Dean wanted something, really and truly wanted something, when it was important to him for reasons beyond fleeting physical satisfaction, Castiel found that he couldn't refuse.

Found that he didn't even want to, not really, because Dean Winchester's emotional well-being was the second most important thing to him in this world. Just after Dean's physical well-being.

Dean was typically drawn to random and meaningless release, and though Castiel didn't approve, he understood. He himself had urges, had needs, that demanded ends. He needed to find his father, he needed to stop his brothers, and he needed for Dean to find peace.

And tonight wasn't going to accomplish any of those, but it might help Dean to feel better, more uplifted. And perhaps Sam, as well. Which Castiel did care about, regardless of how it looked. So he decided to be patient. To wait, and attempt to converse with stray humans, and ignore the way that Dean was stuck snug to an attractive woman.

It wouldn't be very difficult, and Dean would appreciate it.

And Dean looked happy. Not an eternal kind of happy, but he appeared as if he was enjoying himself, at least for the time being. And that was enough to keep Castiel quiet and complacent, at least for the night. Dean looked good when he was happy, and that knowledge forced a smile out of Castiel, however small, and made him want to wrap this moment in time, tight and sure, so that he could watch Dean's face.

Castiel wasn't enjoying himself. Not like Dean was, because he didn't appreciate people the way Dean did. Most people saw him as awkward, and uncomfortable. Even Sam saw him like that, to an extent, and that misperception hurt more that he'd like to admit.

Dean knew better, however. Much as he played up the fact that Castiel was knew to humanity, he understood that Castiel had seen a lot, knew a lot, and his fumbling, stuttering outward appearance wasn't quite what it seemed. No soul other than Dean Winchester would have even suggested that Castiel engage in sexual activity his last night on Earth.

He hadn't wanted to, of course, but he hadn't found it as repulsive as he'd once thought. Not if it would have pleased Dean. He'd been willing to go through with it, if it had come to that, but he was glad that it hadn't. If he was ever going to give in to the sexual impulses that his human form demanded of him, he'd much rather it be with someone that he also had a strong spiritual connection with.

He glanced at Dean again, across the room, watched turn his head and smile and slide his lips along the girl's cheek, and decided, not for the first time, that he wouldn't ever get that chance.

The person he felt closest to, was most decidedly Dean Winchester, and even if Castiel had the desire to explore the physical side of their relationship, which he didn't, it was obvious that Dean had no interest in that sort of thing. It had always been women for him, and more than that, people that he didn't have to pretend to connect with.

Castiel was neither of those things.

But the girl Dean had decided to seduce tonight, was both. Castiel would probably not see Dean again until the following morning, judging by the way they were nestled up against each other, and he tried not to dwell on how or why seeing Dean with a girl made him feel uncomfortable.

It wasn't anything he could define, not really. Dean liked women. He liked to sleep with women. That was not new, and it was never something that Castiel had given much thought to, one way or another. He supposed, that perhaps, knowing something and seeing it, were two entirely different experiences. And the seeing it first hand seemed to stir things in him that he wasn't used to, and didn't care for.

It was odd, this development of almost human emotions and logic that he had been inheriting during his extended stay on Earth, and in the body of Jimmy Novak. He wasn't entirely certain that he liked it.

But then Dean laughed, head tilted back and eyes lit up, wrinkles around the corners becoming more pronounced, and his chest stuttering up and down, a soft warm sound like genuine joy coming from him, and even though he was on the other side of the room, in a dark corner by himself, Castiel felt comforting tendrils of warmth wrap around his chest. And then he wasn't entirely certain that he _didn't_ like these new experiences either.

He'd always cared for Dean. Since the moment Dean came into this world, and Castiel accepted his role in Dean's life, he'd always cared for him. Always loved him, like he loved all humans, like he was ordered by his father.

But when he'd laid his hand on Dean, searing an irremovable print into his skin, it became something different. Different in what way, he hadn't known, was still trying to figure out, but it was definitely different. He'd given up everything, betrayed heaven, for Dean Winchester. The fact that it was also the right thing to do was inconsequential. He'd done it for Dean, and he'd do it again in a second, and he knew enough to know that that meant something.

That he'd do anything for Dean, damn himself, and worse, and all Dean had to do was ask. Castiel was in it that far.

So a few minutes later, when he'd wandered out from his corner, and had taken a few tentative sips of his drink, had gone a whole thirty seconds without glancing in Dean's direction, and a woman with shortish brown hair, and clothing that hung off her small frame a tad too much, stepped in front of him and asked his name, he forced a smile, and answered.

"Castiel," he said, tilting his head down toward hers, and she smiled up at him and bit her bottom lip. It was nerves, he could tell. This girl was much more unsure than the girl a few minutes ago, and that fact helped Castiel to relax somewhat, and try for some variant of conversation.

"Alison," she said, and he did his best to return her smile.

There was a lot of what Dean had labelled 'small talk', and some light, surprisingly appropriate touching, compared to what he'd witness so far at this party, and Castiel found that it wasn't… bad. The brief brushed of her hand on his arm, or her shoulder against his as they walked to the refreshment table, or the tips of her fingers against his lips as she fed him some kind of lemony, sugary cookie.

He didn't manage to take it all in one bite, surprised by the action, and she laughed, and he frowned in puzzlement at the taste, and a few crumbs fell down his chin that Alison wiped up with her thumb. It felt good, in a way, the sweet burst of flavour and the light physical contact with another human body, and he wasn't at all surprised with his eyes left hers after a beat, and drifted across the room to find Dean, still in the same place he'd been all night, still with the same girl.

Only this time, he was looking back at Castiel, didn't seem to be paying much attention, if any, to the girl, while she ran her hand over his stomach, and pressed her nose against his neck. He looked almost intense, very interested, and Castiel would have wished that he knew whether or not this attempt at socialisation pleased Dean, but the almost possessive look in Dean's slightly tightened eyes was enough to stop him wondering.

It was obvious that Dean wasn't even aware of the expression he was wearing, but it was also obvious to Castiel what it meant. Castiel belonged to Dean, just as surely as Dean belonged to Castiel. Whatever their relationship was, or wasn't, they had come to mean a great deal to each other, had become attached in a way that meant letting go would be painful, at best. And though Dean wasn't yet aware of that fact, it didn't make it less true.

Castiel swallowed, audible and pronounced, and he thought that he might he content to stare at Dean across this drunken, noisy excuse for a Christmas celebration, as long as Dean stared back at him, just like that.

He didn't get the chance however, because Alison stuck the tip of her thumb into her mouth, sucking the crumbs off it, and her smile turned a strange combination of seductive and shy as she tilted her head back, looking at the plant hanging from the ceiling above them.

"Mistletoe," she shrugged, and her tongue darted out to lick her pursed lips briefly, and Casteil glanced back at Dean once more, saw his eyes narrowed and his jaw set tight, and Castiel blinked at him once, before turning back to Alison.

"Mistletoe?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what it was, and the human traditions surrounding it.

"Yeah, it's… you know, standing under it, and… we're supposed to… kiss."

She was a beautiful woman, and she seemed very nice, and the conversation so far had almost been easy. Or as close to easy as conversation ever got when Castiel was involved. But he wasn't sure that he wanted to kiss her.

It shouldn't be a big deal, it shouldn't matter at all. He'd been kissed before, by the prostitute that Dean had taken him to, and this was much purer than that experience, but she wasn't what he wanted.

She looked so hopeful though, so innocent and lovely, and he thought of Dean, who had asked him to try to have a good time, to be like everyone else, and Castiel did not want to disappoint him.

And perhaps Dean was right. Perhaps he would benefit from forging relationships, however transient, with God's mortal creations. And if he was forced to define the way he felt at this moment, he would have to say that he… liked Alison.

So when she lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and tilted his face down towards hers, he didn't stop her. When she inched her own chin up, brought their faces together so their lips were only a hairs breadth apart, and waited, making the decision his, he closed the distance, and pressed his lips against hers.

It was stiff at first, uncomfortable for him, but she took the lead quickly, her mouth going soft under his, and he responded, tight set of his mouth loosening, taking the hint from the gentle, almost timid motions of her lips over his, the barest hint of her tongue snaking out to tease his sensitive skin.

Castiel sighed, some of the tension leaving his body, and he deepened the kiss, ever so slightly, allowing his own tongue to slip out and skate briefly over her bottom lip. It wasn't lustful, exactly. He wasn't experiencing lust, at least, just an odd sense of warmth, and pleasure, and even after only a second or two, he was beginning to understand Dean's propensities towards the pleasures of the flesh.

Not that he had any intention of taking this further. He didn't love the girl, and it wouldn't be right.

It was a nice kiss, and he fleetingly wondered where it would place on a scale of first kisses that didn't require payment first, and then he pulled back, and so did she, and she smiled playfully at him and looked down. He touched his hand to her arm, and looked back over to Dean, shoulders tight and high around his ears, and jaw set even tighter than before, but Dean looked away as soon as Castiel caught his eye, turned to the girl on his arm, and told her something that Castiel couldn't hear, but made her frown, sadly, nod, and pull back.

Dean leaned forward and kissed her, hard on the mouth, and then he practically pushed her out of the way, and began to stalk his way across the room, to Castiel.

***

Cas was kissing someone. Like, right there, in the middle of the party, in a room full of complete strangers, and Castiel was fucking _kissing_ someone.

And she was pretty, too, which yeah, okay, made sense, because it wasn't like someone who didn't know they were attractive would have the nerve to go up to someone like Cas, but that wouldn't have mattered. Dean knew Cas well enough by now to know that how much he did or didn't like someone had nothing to do with the way they looked. Fuck, Cas happened to be setting up shop in a pretty good looking guy, but that wasn't really him. So he knew better than anyone, and Dean was starting to learn by association, that what was on the outside wasn't really all that important. Just a bonus, especially in Castiel's case.

And did he mention that Cas was kissing someone? Because yeah, that was… fuckin' weird, because Cas didn't _kiss_ people. Cas scowled, and frowned and looked down his nose when people tried to have fun. He sighed and rolled his eyes, and gave Dean that pandering kind of look that said that he was an angel, and above all this worldly bullshit, like food and sex and sleep, that Dean liked to indulge in.

Dean had had to practically threaten him with physical violence to get him to agree to see that hooker, and even then Cas had decided to waste good money and fucking _talk_ with her, instead. And it wasn't like it bothered Dean, watching Cas mack on the little brunette. Why should it? It was his idea to get Cas socialising in the first place. And Christ, he'd shelled out $500 bucks not that long ago in the name of getting Cas' cherry popped, so really, he should be a hell of a lot more excited about this than he was.

But no, this was awesome. Cas looked good, almost like a real boy, enjoying a real party, and it was awesome. It totally was. And Dean's body heating up, his muscles tensing and his cheeks flushing as the girl tilted her head just a little, the involuntary tick in his jaw and the way he was grinding his teeth together? That was just what he did when he was happy about something.

It sure as fuck wasn't because he was bothered about it.

And when he tipped back his drink and finished the rest of it in one swallow after Castiel turned to meet his eyes, and turned back to Shelly, mumbling a polite but short "I gotta go. I'll call you," in her ear, it was just because he was tired, and they had demons to hunt in the morning, and this party was pretty lame, anyway.

And when he marched through the crowd, rudely elbowing people out of the way, and physically grabbed Castiel hard by the wrist, physically dragging him away from the girl, mumbling an insincere apology, and some bullshit about getting up early, it sure as _hell_ wasn't because he was jealous. He had nothing to be jealous over, right?

***

Sam watched with a raised eyebrow and more than a little interest as Castiel was not very subtly steered underneath a hanging sprig of mistletoe, and kissed soundly on the mouth by a pretty girl. Wow. That was… unexpected, to say the least. Yeah, sure Castiel had lips and everything, but Sam didn't actually think he used them for anything besides talking, or maybe pursing them when he got all up in Dean's face about something or other.

And the funny thing was, it didn't appear to be the awkward train wreck that Sam would have expected, when the normally stoic and serious Castiel was mixed with alcohol, a pretty girl, and tongue kissing. He kind of looked like he was… not so much good at it, because it was clearly a new experience for him, but he didn't look like he was freaking out, which was actually kind of cool. Dean would probably be happy to know that he was rubbing off on the angel a little.

When Castiel broke off the kiss and his eyes immediately landed on Dean, Sam followed them, and… huh. That was even weirder than Castiel making out with some chick. Dean looked _pissed_. Dean looked… Holy fuck, Dean was _jealous_.

Dean was jealous, because Castiel was kissing someone, and Sam was pretty sure that it wasn't because Dean wanted Cas' girl. He already had one on his arm, and the girl Cas was with wasn't really Dean's type anyway, so that could only mean that Dean was pissed because he didn't want Castiel kissing _anyone_.

Which just did not make sense. Not unless Dean wanted to be the one kissing Castiel, and Sam had honestly thought the two of them would never get over themselves enough to admit how they really felt about each other.

Oh, he knew Dean wasn't into dudes, or at least, he didn't think so, so ordinarily he'd just think Dean was having an aneurism or something, but he'd also seen the way him and Cas looked at each other sometimes. Like there was some pretty serious shit going between them, like a power struggle Dean thought he wasn't ever going to win, but already had. Sam just honestly hadn't thought that it might turn out to be sexual.

Mostly because Dean was a pretty adamant heterosexual, and also because he could be so damn oblivious that the thought of him and Cas had truly never crossed his mind. Not in a conscious way.

It seemed that it had crossed Castiel's though, because the way he reacted when Dean put his hand on him, yanked him roughly and growled at him, eyes narrowed, and leading him across the room, was hard to mistake.

Castiel shivered. Not noticeably, not unless you were watching for it, and his eyelids drooped, his pale pink tongue coming out slowly, unconsciously running across his top lip, and he followed behind Dean without even a backwards glance at the woman he'd just been kissing.

Yeah, there was no mistaking that. Cas liked Dean, and he knew it.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean grumbled when he'd hauled Cas across the room to his brother, and brushed against his shoulder against Sam, knocking him so that Sam spilled his drink slightly. "We're leaving."

Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled as he apologised to Karen and Bill, who worked the night shift, and followed after his brother.

Dean could be a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes, and denial was one of his very best friends, so it wasn't really surprising that he hadn't really realised how he felt. But maybe Sam could help with that.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For any impatient people out there that are interested in reading this, it's complete, and posted at my LJ, but will be updated here every day or two. http:// rockstarpeach. livejournal. com/ 74341. html

Part 2

***

Christmas day, Dean and Sam took the evening off. It wasn't planned, or intentional, but they were waiting on a lead, a report from the county coroner, that wouldn't come in until the 27th, so Dean and Sam had mostly been holed up in their motel, researching whatever they could through Sam's computer, and the few books they'd checked out of the library. Turned out, not a lot of people were open for business, or up to answering freaky-ass questions about actual balls of fire falling from the sky, on Christmas day.

Cas had fucked off pretty much ass soon as they left that party a couple of days ago, with no warning whatsoever. He'd followed Dean out to the car, had even gotten into the backseat, and sometime during Sam's awkward attempt at conversation and Dean's heavy silence on the ride back, Castiel had vanished.

One moment, Dean had looked into the rearview mirror, eyes tight, and connecting with Castiel's narrowed and suspicious ones, and then Sam had distracted him with some stupid comment about the pretzels. The next time Dean had looked back, Cas was just… gone. They didn't hear from him for over forty hours.

He had shown up at their motel few hours ago, which the brothers hadn't been expecting. They didn't have any news, and they didn't call him, but he called Sam, asked where they were, and less than a minute later, there he was, in their room, looking just as rumpled as always, tie askew and trench coat falling loosely around him.

"Cas, what's up, man?" Dean asked, sitting himself up on the bed, legs draping over the side as he muted the television. "Got anything for us?"

Cas took two steps closer to Dean, turned his head to look at Sam for a split second, and then looked at Dean again. He sighed, and tilted his head down, and to the side, uncomfortable, almost. It would have been sort of cute, if it didn't make Dean's heart clench just a little. He looked… sad.

"My search for my father has turned up nothing in the past day and a half," he admitted, and his eyes dropped to the floor. It wasn't really news. Hell, Dean would have been surprised if Cas _had_ managed to find something, but he sat up straighter, and Sam shifted uncomfortably, and shrugged, and then Cas looked up again. Straight into Dean's eyes. "And I… didn't want to be alone, today."

And yeah, Dean could get that. Was sort of impressed Cas had the balls to admit it. Even though the 25th of December meant nothing to Cas, really, for the rest of the country, and a lot of other places in the world, it was still a pretty big deal. And he understood the feeling of failure that came from knowing your dad might be in trouble, that he might need your help, and you couldn't give it to him. Knew what it was like to feel impotent, screaming inside your own head because you knew he was out there and you couldn't get to him.

He knew what it was like to need someone, when you were so lonely you thought you might actually die from it. It was why he'd gone to Sam in the first place, all those years ago, why he'd been terrified since then that Sam would leave him, because then he'd truly he alone. Then he'd be exactly where Cas was at the moment, cut off from his family, nobody in the world to just be there for him.

Sure, he had Dean, and even Sam to an extent, but it wasn't like he was with them all the time. He popped in every once in a while, when he needed help, or when he could offer some of his own, but most of the time, he was on his own. And that must suck.

So it was actually really easy for Dean to smile softly at him, stand up and grab his keys off the table next to the bed, and say "There's a twenty four hour gas station down the road. I'm pretty sure they even sell that jarred cranberry jelly shit. Let's roll, Cas," he added, slipping into his jacket, and nudging the angel with his elbow.

Cas blinked, and then to Sam briefly, before looking at Dean again, as if he wasn't quite sure whether or not he should follow, like the invitation was somehow foreign and inappropriate, and he had no idea what to do with it, but Sam already had his nose buried in his notes again, so he wasn't much help. He took one, then two hesitant steps towards Dean, and then Dean rolled his eyes, turned and opened the door, smiling to himself when Cas followed.

"Dude," Sam called out, stopping Dean just before he closed the door behind him and Cas. "Try to see if they have any food that a human can actually survive on."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean mumbled over his shoulder and shut the door. Freakin' Sam and his freakin' health food. His brother should grow some damn taste buds. He crossed the narrow sidewalk to the car, not bothering to wait until Cas had done up his seatbelt in the passenger seat before starting up his baby and heading over to the store.

***

When Sam heard the Impala's engine start up, and the tires squeal slightly on the pavement as Dean took the corner out of the parking lot too fast, he smirked to himself, and stood, sweeping up all his papers into a neat pile, and switching off his computer.

He bundled everything together, in a reasonable order that he could easily work with when he pulled it all out again, and stuffed it into the duffle bag by his bed. It really could wait until tomorrow. It wasn't like they could do anything for the next day or so anyway, and he was actually really glad that Castiel had shown up.

Dean wasn't very obvious about it, but he'd been disappointed when Cas took off on them a couple of days ago. Dean was always disappointed when Cas pulled that shit, but until this last time, Sam had actually just thought Dean was frustrated at Castiel's lack of manners. After what had happened at that Xerox store, though, Sam knew better.

Dean missed Cas when he wasn't around, and it was kind of nice that he came to see them today, nice to see the lines around Dean's eyes soften when Cas appeared out of nowhere, nice to see the tight line of Cas' shoulders soften when Dean made him feel welcome. And it was nice that it gave Sam the chance to try to help them admit how they felt, and hopefully finally fuck each other, and put all that really distracting sexual tension behind them

Not that he was really expecting that to happen, not after this long skirting around each other like a couple of virgins at a junior high school dance, but at least maybe he could get the ball rolling. He rooted around in his bag, careful not to mess up his notes too badly, and pulled out a smallish package, wrapped in sheets of newsprint, holding it up, triumphant.

He opened it quickly, and took out the plant-shaped piece of green and red plastic. Okay, so it wasn't real mistletoe, but it was the best he could do. He snagged it from the diner they'd eaten at last night when Dean wasn't looking, and stuffed it in his backpack, just in case.

Hell, Cas had seemed okay with keeping up with this tradition a couple of days ago, so it worth a shot, right? He looked around the room, trying to decide on the best place to hang it. It had to be somewhere that Dean and Cas were even remotely likely to pass through together, so the door looked like a pretty good option. Then again, when they came back their arms would be full, and they'd probably be rushing, and there wasn't a good chance they'd even notice it.

There weren't too many options, so he quickly decided on hanging it over the table. After a full belly, and a few beers, Dean would be as relaxed as he was going to get, and it was possible he wouldn't just punch Sam in the nose for setting this up.

The things Sam did for his lame-ass, in-the-closet, denial-is-my-best-friend, brother.

Still, it paid to be even a little bit subtle, where Dean was concerned, so this was a better plan overall than just sitting down and talking about it with him. That would have to be a last resort.

***

Twenty minutes after he left, Dean bounded back into the room, smiling brightly at Sam, and heading over to the table with a brown paper bag in his arms. Cas was carrying one too, and followed Dean's example, coming to stand next to Dean and placing it on the table next to Dean's.

"We totally scored, Sammy," Dean said around a smile, reaching over to the bag Castiel had carried in, and pulling out a 6-pack. He grabbed one of the bottles and held it next to the table, edge of the cap placed just over the edge of the table, and gave the top of the bottle one sharp smack with the heel of his hand, sending the bottle cap skidding to the floor, ignored.

He grinned a proud grin and handed the bottle to Cas, who took it without a word, then did the same to another bottle, and held it out in Sam's direction. Sam had to lean over to take it from him, since he was sitting on the chair next to the window, lounging against the wall, with his feet sprawled up on the chair beside him. When Sam reached out for the bottle, Dean screwed up his face and took a swig from it before he smacked one of Sam's sock-covered feet.

"Dude, move," he said. "You're not that freakin' big that you need two chairs."

Sam pulled a face and lunged forward, snagging the beer out of Dean's hand and managing only to slosh a little over the top and onto his leg. Dean smirked. "Sit over there," Sam said, nodding at the two perfectly good chairs on the other side of the table. "So what'd you get me, Dean? I'm starving."

Okay, that was weird. Sam never ate all slouched over and sprawled out like that. It was more Dean's thing. Sam was pretty uptight about chewing the proper number of times, and sitting so the food could properly be swallowed with minimal risk of choking or some bullshit, so he gave his brother an odd look before shrugging and sitting down across from him, grabbing another beer for himself, and pulling the bag of food out of Sam's reach.

Sam huffed, and kicked Dean under the table, and Dean stuck his tongue out, and wrapped his arm tighter around the food.

Cas sighed and looked from Sam to Dean, pointedly grabbing the top of the brown paper bag and glaring at Dean until he curled into himself a little, and let go of it, eyes flitting down to the table top to avoid Cas' stern glare. "The two of you behave like children," he said, an odd combination of fondness and distaste lacing his words. "It concerns me that the fate of your world, and my brethren rest in your hands."

Dean looked offended, and Sam barked out a sharp laugh.

Castiel let his face soften just a little, so little that Dean would have missed it if he wasn't staring straight at him, and didn't know most of his expressions pretty well by now. Or, at least the ones that even remotely knowable.

He smiled at Sam.

Okay, so it was a pretty damn small smile, almost not there at all, but it was still a smile and it deserved its own paragraph in Dean's head, because Cas didn't smile much. Dean could count on one hand the number of times that he'd seen Cas smile. Really smile. Ever.

And now he was just giving them away to his annoying brother like some kind of smile slut? Fuck that. Cas' smiles were special, and rare, like that angel-trapping holy oil, and if they were gonna be out there, Dean wanted them directed at him. Not Sam, or cute little copy girls.

But yeah, he knew he was being ridiculous. A smiling Cas was a good thing, and anything that could make his face glow in that way that was so new to him, was a good thing. Because Cas looked damn good when he glowed. In that, you know, way that angels were supposed to look, all bright and happy and shit.

Castiel reached into the paper bag and pulled out a stark white Styrofoam container, opening it up and examining its contents before placing it down in front of Dean, with a look of warning.

Dean scowled at him, but he didn't start eating right away, and he didn't sing 'na na na na' to Sam because he'd gotten his food first, which clearly meant that Cas liked him better.

"The owner of the gas station was very generous, and seemed be inspired by the… Christmas Spirit," Cas said, seeming to puzzle over the words, as if they didn't quite fit.

"He gave us food," Dean added, helpfully, and Cas turned hard eyes on him, effectively shutting Dean up.

"He was in the middle of a festive celebration when we entered his store. He lives above it, and his wife had cooked a large feast, for more than dozen family and friends." He took out another container and peered inside, placing on the table in front of the seat next to Dean's. He took the last container out of the bag, and without inspecting it, placed it in front of Sam.

"Some of them were… vegetarian."

"What?" Sam asked, face screwed up and pulling the box towards himself. He opened it, and didn't look like he wanted to puke, so Dean took that as a good sign. And then Sam looked at him, and made a face like he'd just had an entire lemon shoved in his mouth. "Dean, what….?"

"Tofurky, Sammy!!" Dean almost shouted, and he couldn't help but smile, because really? That was fucking funny shit. "Eat up!"

Sam stared at his food, picked up one of the plastic forks that fell out on to the table, along with some napkins and salt packages, when Dean shook it out before balling it up and tossing it into the garbage can.

"Dude," Dean said, still entirely too pleased with himself. "You said you wanted healthy. _That's_ healthy." Dean didn't exactly know much about nutrition, but even he knew that turkey was pretty damn good for you as it was. It was just all the sauces and gravy and everything you put with it that made it less than good. He had made sure to stuff Sam's container with vegetables and salad, and left off the artery-clogging gravy, and sugar-loaded cranberry sauce. Because he was an awesome brother.

Sam still looked sceptical, even though Dean knew for a fact that soy wasn't anything new for Sam. Still, the big slices of turkey, covered in rich, fatty gravy, and the high-carb stuffing and potatoes that made up Dean's and Castiel's plates, must have looked pretty good. Heh. Served the bitch right for being such a health conscious freak.

"Sam," Cas said, looking at his plate, then Dean's, and then to Sam's. "Is there something wrong? Dean suggested that you might prefer that meal, but it does not look like that is what you desired."

"Sam's a baby," Dean muttered, playfully. "And he'd rather eat that shit than what we've got anyway."

"Cas, it's…" Sam started, and stuck his fork into a piece of tofu, and shoved it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. It wasn't bad. Sam had had it before, and there was some kind of sauce on it that gave it flavour, and even though Dean was kind of being a dick, he was right. Sam did prefer the healthy options when it came to food, and he did appreciate that Dean had picked this out for him, instead of all the fats and simple carbohydrates that Dean and Cas were eating.

Sam was planning on being buff and beautiful when he fifty, thanks. He wasn't going to let the temptations of grease and starch put that little bit of flab around his middle that Dean seemed so unconcerned with.

"Thanks. It's great." He tiled his head, and gave Cas that stupid-ass puppy smile, and Cas' shoulders almost sagged in relief, like he'd be upset if he hadn't gotten Sam the right fucking brand of green peas, and finally Cas sat down next to Dean, and started to eat his own food.

"Can we just eat, or what?" Dean grumbled, cramming a huge bite of potato into his mouth. He didn't even know why he was feeling so edgy all of a sudden, but he was. Just… uncomfortable, restless, like there was something he needed, or wanted, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. And it was making him more abrasive than he normally would have been, was making things that would normally seem like nothing, irritate the fucking hell out of him.

It sucked. It was probably stress, this fucking mess they were in taking its toll, and he hated that he was being so… well, so bitchy lately, but nights like tonight helped. Just some relaxing, some peace and quiet with Sam and Cas, good food, beer, and nothing trying to kill them. At least not until tomorrow.

Cas picked up his own fork, studied it acutely, and then speared a piece of turkey, and guided it carefully to his mouth. "I think I understand," he commented, after he'd chewed and swallowed, and licked the traces of gravy from his lips. A particular motion that Dean found himself unable to look away from, for reasons he didn't even bother to think about. "What it is you enjoy so much about the consumption of sustenance, Dean."

"Does that mean you like it?" Dean smiled, and Cas answered him by taking another bite. Dean nudged him with his elbow even as he copied Cas by taking a huge mouthful of turkey and cranberry sauce, the homemade kind, with actual cranberries in it. "Wait til you try the pie."

"It's good, Dean," Sam said, and when Dean looked over he saw that had already finished almost half his plate. "Really. Thanks."

Dean rolled his eyes and took another drink of his beer, and Sam grinned at him, doing the same. The rest of the meal was actually pretty nice. It tasted damn good, and it had been a long time since Dean had had anything resembling a home-cooked meal. They all finished their beers, and Dean and Sam laughed while Cas tried to open another round for them the same way Dean had, and Cas scowled and gave up, palm bruised and table chipped, and finally sent the caps flying off the bottles with just a look and slight twist of his hand in the air.

That was cool. _Cas_ was cool. Dean was totally going to have to remember to make him do that shit at parties from now on, because _damn_.

They finished their food to the accompaniment of random small talk, and Dean's stomach fluttered just a little each time Cas tried to say something normal, something about the weather, of all things, or the songs on the radio, or motel décor. Each time he looked at Dean hopefully, like he wanted to be what Dean wanted, make things easy on him, like everything he said was to please Dean. And fuck, Dean kind of wanted for Cas to please him, too.

Which was a weird thought, that didn't make much sense, so Dean ignored it.

It was actually pretty close to the best Christmas dinner Dean and Sam had ever had. Growing up, Christmas hadn't ever been a big deal to their father, and Dean hadn't ever been raised to believe in God, so it hadn't ever been something that had meant anything to him. But two years ago, when he thought it would be his last, that changed. He wanted the sentiment, and Sam had been there, and since then, he'd sort of been into it. Enjoyed it, liked the spirit.

And yeah, finding out that all that God and angels shit that Sam had believed in was actually real, kind of threw him for a loop, but this? This quiet celebration with the people he loved most, this foreign feeling of hope and contentment? This felt right. And he was really damn glad that Cas had shown up tonight.

"So, uh…." Sam said, mischievous smile curling his lips up as he tilted his head and his eyes looked to some spot in the air over Dean's head. Dean looked at him, face drawn, and shook his head, shrugged his shoulders.

"Dude, what? You're being weird. Even for you." Sam had been sort of off since Dean and Cas got back from the supper run, but Dean hadn't said anything until now.

Sam's smile pulled up into an all out smirk, and he jerked his chin up. Dean followed his eyes, head turning and lifting his chin to where Sam was looking, and snorted with amusement when he saw what Sam was looking at.

He shook his head and looked back at Sam, while Cas turned curious eyes upward. "Seriously Sam?" he asked, half smiling, even as his heart skipped a beat. And another. "You went and hung mistletoe in a motel room with three guys? Two brothers, and an angel?" He snorted again and raised his eyebrows. "You're way more desperate than I ever gave you credit for."

Sam screwed up his face, nose scrunching like he smelled something bad. "Dude, that's… no, man. Gross." Cas sat up a little straighter, his hand tightened on the fork resting on his empty pie plate. "No offence, Castiel," Sam quickly added. "I just… And hey, _I'm_ not one of the two sitting under it right now."

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Convenient." His eyes darted over to Cas, who looked maybe a little too uncomfortable, because it could have been an uncomfortable situation, but Sam was just pulling their legs, right? There was never meant to be any actual kissing. So there was no reason for Cas to be turning that particular shade of red, or for his eyes to be frantically looking anywhere but at Dean.

Dean moved his hand without even thinking, placing it over Cas' forearm, fingers curling around the solid muscle underneath over-starched cotton, and giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Freakin' hilarious, Sam," Dean said, and maybe he was hallucinating, but he could have sworn Sam looked… hurt. Like he'd gone to some trouble to set this up, and Dean laughing it off was almost an insult. Which was weird.

Dean was, surprisingly, all up for the Christmas cheer, was into the big feast, and any lousy decorations they could muster, as was evidenced by a sad-ass set of multi-coloured twinkle lights surrounding the window, and the one and a half foot, mostly brown, almost tree they had propped up on the table between the beds, bright yellow paper star on top.

And if Sam was trying, was making an effort despite his recent existential crisis, then Dean felt like an ass for throwing it back in his face.

"Sorry," he said, looking down, and coughing, trying to avoid looking at Cas just as much as Sam, because that was pretty fuckin' weird, too. "I should, uh…." His eyes scanned the table, and landed on the empty box that once contained six beers, and that was a pretty good excuse to get out of there, and come back when his head was clearer. "More beer," he muttered, and stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and headed out the door.

Yes. More beer. One fuck of a lot more beer. Because for just a second there, he'd actually been tempted to do it. To kiss Cas. And he was pretty sure it had fuck all to do with tradition.

***

Dean hadn't been gone for more than a minute, Sam and Castiel looking blankly at each other over a small plate of red and green coloured cookies, in the shapes of holly, and stars and snowmen.

"The cookies are good," Castiel said, eyes down on the plate. "They're sweet, and the texture is pleasing."

Sam smiled, and swallowed his bite, silently agreeing. He licked his lips and let his tongue drift over the roof of his mouth, and pushed back in his chair, getting almost comfortable.

"You wanted to," Sam said simply, licking the crumbs off his lips through a faint grin.

Castiel looked up at Sam, puzzled, but didn't say anything. He probably figured Sam would tell him if it was important, and if it wasn't, Castiel had better things to think about. Like red food colouring, and powdered sugar.

Sam waited another beat, just to see if Cas would break and actually ask what he was talking about, but when he didn't, Sam continued, unprompted. "Kiss Dean," he said, and Castiel's eyes widened for a split second before going narrow and hard. "You wanted to."

Sam wasn't even one hundred percent sure he was right about that, but he didn't think he'd been misreading Cas at the party, and he sure as hell hadn't missed the way froze up, _blushed_, for God's sake, and looked down, the second he realised that Sam had set them up with the mistletoe just now. So it was a guess, but a fairly educated one.

Besides, there wasn't a question in his mind that the angel loved his brother, the only question was whether or not Castiel realised what it meant.

Castiel opened his mouth, and for a moment it looked like he was going to deny it, but instead he closed his mouth again, breathed out sharply through his nose, and looked at Sam steadily. "It's… tradition," he said instead, kind of awkward. Or, really fuckin' awkward, considering it was Castiel acting unsure and embarrassed like this. Sam hadn't thought he was capable of anything but aloofness and stoicism, with the occasional dash of no-nonsense, dominating prick.

But this side of Cas was almost cute. Vulnerable, in a not quite soft way, and Sam was finding that he kind of liked him like this. He could even sort of see what Dean saw in him, even if Dean couldn't admit, not even to himself. Cas would probably be more willing to take that first step.

"You kissed that girl a few days ago because it was tradition," Sam challenged. "You wanted to kiss my brother tonight because you like him."

"I…" Castiel started, and then _cleared his throat_, which was… actually a little unnerving. Wow. He really must be into Dean, for just the suggestion of a kiss to get him so freaked out.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it wasn't really like Sam knew how to deal with his brother and an angel having gay crushes on each other, especially when they wouldn't even admit it. Just be there, and try to help out, he supposed.

"It's okay, Castiel," he told him, voice soft and as reassuring as it could be. "It's… weird, but it's okay. I think… I think he kind of wanted it, too." And again it was an educated guess, but he would bet a lot on it. He knew Dean better than anyone else did. Knew him better than he knew himself, sometimes.

"That's absurd. Dean doesn't…" Castiel snapped, and then trailed off, taking a moment to catch his breath and calm down. "This whole thing is absurd," said after a moment, and seemingly in defeat. "I hate feeling so… human."

That was almost more than Sam had even expected. He'd kind of been banking on Castiel putting up more a fight over it. Then again, his existence probably left little room for self-delusion, and he didn't seem to have much shame, so Sam shouldn't have really been surprised that when questioned, Cas would flat out say what was on his mind.

"You should tell him how you feel." And yeah, it probably wouldn't just be that easy, but it would be a start. Might send Dean running for cover, but it also might give him a level of safety that would give him some comfort. Might make him more willing to open up.

Castiel pursed his lips tighter than Sam thought was probably normal for him, but otherwise didn't flinch, which was pretty impress. Or, you know, normal, for Cas. "I don't even _know_ how I feel," he said, somewhere between angry and lost. "This is… this is new for me. This kind of emotion. I haven't… haven't cared about anyone, not the way humans define it, in… a very long time. I'm not even sure what it means."

"I'm… I'm almost sure I believe you, Cas," Sam said, and kind of wished Dean would get back soon with those beers. "But you know… If you want Dean to notice you, you might want to make him jealous. It seemed to work well enough the other night."

"What?"

"You're thousands of years old," Sam told him, resisting rolling his eyes. "I'm sure you're familiar with the concept. Make him jealous. Make him realise what he's missing. Like when you kissed that girl. Dean hated that."

"I'm surprised at you, Sam," Castiel said, voice nearly vibrating the air around them, it was so serious and commanding, _scolding_, and Sam actually cringed. "I would have thought you'd be above such childish games."

Sam held his hands up, still slouched down in his chair, palms facing Castiel in surrender. That wasn't exactly a harsh tone he'd used, but it could easily get that way, and he didn't want to get on Castiel's bad side. Not that Castiel had any reason to blame him for anything anyway.

"Hey, they're not _my_ games, man," Sam insisted, and found it amusing that Cas didn't point out that he thought _Dean_ would above shit like that. He obviously knew him pretty well. "I know Dean, and I know nothing makes Dean realise he wants something more than when he thinks somebody else wants it. So if you want Dean, and you're not willing to be direct about it… I'm just sayin', that's your best shot."

He just really, really hoped that Dean didn't break Castiel's heart. He could see the angel had it bad for Dean, even if he _was_ confused, and the poor bastard would do anything for him, even if he wasn't sure, even if it killed him.

This could all go really, really wrong, but Sam hoped to God it didn't. Dean deserved some happiness, after everything he'd been through, and so did Cas. Even if this truly was the end of days, the least the two of them could hope for, was spending those last days together.

Sam knew better than Dean what it was like to be in love, and he wanted his brother to have that, before it was too late.

Castiel didn't answer, but Sam got the distinct impression that he'd known damn well how Dean felt about his mistletoe antics. More than even Dean did, which was pretty damn impressive. Sam made a mental note to stop underestimating the angel. Just because he came off kind of confused and disinterested, didn't necessarily mean that he was.

Cas looked down at the empty plate of cookies, and folded one of his hands over the other, fingers interlocking and resting on the cool Formica of the dated table. But Sam got the distinct impression that Cas wanted to tell him to go to hell.

It wasn't long before Dean got back, thank God, because coaching an angel in the form of an advertising salesman on how best to land his brother was sort of outside his comfort zone, despite his good intentions.

Upon Dean's return, Sam's conversation with Castiel was promptly forgotten in favour of Sam and Dean splitting a twelve pack, and the three of them watching 'A Christmas Story' on cable.

Dean and Sam were each sprawled out on their respective beds, and Castiel was sitting straight and rigid on one the chairs that had been angled towards the television. Less than halfway through the movie, when Sam and his brother shared a laugh over Old Man Parker's 'major award', and Sam turned his head toward Cas, to see if he found it even mildly entertaining, or at least to let him know that he should, Cas was gone.

Dean looked too, and Sam could see the barely there flash of hurt in his eyes, before Dean's head spun around to the television again. He was still laughing, but it sounded a little more hollow than it had before.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For any impatient people out there that are interested in reading this, it's complete, and posted at my LJ, but will be updated here every day or two. http:// rockstarpeach. livejournal. com/ 74341. html

Part 3

***

They didn't see Cas again for another five days. Two days before New Year's, and they were holed up in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Nebraska, Sam nursing a sprained ankle from their run-in with a town full of Zombies, and it was pretty much a scene right out _Night of the Living Dead_. Dean would have laughed, if he wasn't so busy trying to keep himself and his brother alive.

Zombies weren't actually so funny, in person.

Dean was in the bathroom when he heard Sam's phone ring, and by the time he was out, drying his hands off on his pants, Cas was there, looming in the short hallway between the 'kitchen' and the 'bedroom'. He looked… dishevelled. Okay, so he pretty much always did, but this was dishevelled even for him. Hair particularly messy, and tie sitting even more askew than normal. He was favouring one arm, and breathing in that sort of heavy way that meant he'd either been in a fight, or he was pissed off, or both.

Dean spared a moment to wonder if Cas really needed to breath, since he didn't seem to need to eat, or sleep, or do anything else that humans did, before nodded at him and asked, "What's up?"

"I've just met with Zachariah," he answered, and his eyes shifted to Sam for a second, sitting on his bed with his computer in front of him, and then back to Dean. "The time for Lucifer to take his new vessel is approaching, and the host of heaven feel it imperative that Michael take his, and strike now, while the devil is relatively weak."

Dean instinctively took a half step back, even though this was Cas, and he knew that Cas would never hurt him, never force him to do anything that would destroy him. Not after that thing with Alistair. He hoped. No, Cas was on his side and he knew that.

"Cas," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm not…"

"I told him I would kill you myself," Cas interrupted, head tilted and lips soft at the sides. "And make sure you stayed that way, before I saw you violated in such a manner."

Dean couldn't help but snort and shake his head around a soft smile, and say "Thanks Cas", even as he felt an odd sort of heaviness in his gut. Castiel hadn't given a single thought to Jimmy, or his wife and kid, before hi-jacking his body and ruining all their lives.

Sure, Jimmy had given Cas permission, but he damn sure hadn't realised the extent of the price he'd have to pay, and they were still working on whether or not it would ultimately be worth it. If they lost, and Lucifer won, and Heaven and Earth became his, the very least a man like Jimmy deserved was to spend the last few precious years with the people he loved, not unconscious in his own body while an angel wore it around and broke his family's hearts.

There were a lot of reasons Dean wanted to win this. Reasons with names, like Sam, and Jo. Faceless reasons, too, that were no less important just because Dean didn't know them. Selfish reasons, like needing to prove he was strong enough, and petty reasons, like Lucifer really was an asshole and needed a good smackdown.

But at that particular moment, Jimmy and Amelia and Claire were the most important reasons of all.

"Take it Zach didn't like that answer so much?" he asked, bringing his thoughts back on track, after an odd look from Sam.

"No more than he's approved of any of my choices lately," Cas answered, and his hands gripped the sides of his trench coat, _Jimmy's trench coat_, tugged it straight and then released. "He attacked me. Though I don't believe he had intention of killing me. He was… making a point."

"And that point was?" Sam asked, looking up at Cas.

"He is stronger than I am. He has most of our brothers and sisters on his side, and unless I convince Dean to… let Michael in, it will end badly for the three of us. And everyone you hold close."

Dean ignored for the moment, that next to Sam, Cas and Bobby, there was pretty much nobody left he held close. "So, what now?"

"Now we carry on as we always have. Help people, find a way to kill the devil, and search for my father. Zachariah will not truly harm any of us. But our numbers grow fewer, and the outlook is bleak."

Dean snorted an agreement, and mentally crossed himself, thinking that at least they still had Bobby, and Rufus was out there somewhere, a few other scattered, random hunters. But Cas was right; they were losing people, too many people, and the chances of them winning this war were slim.

"What about Gabriel," Sam asked, and Dean silently seethed, because that was the fuckin' last thing they needed. "I mean, he's not on their side, and they probably won't be too happy with him for taking off like he did." Sam shrugged, and stuffed a handful of Skittles into his mouth. "He'd be a good ally."

"Gabriel will not help us," Cas said, his voice taking on that low and tight quality that told people not to fuck with him. Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

"I don't get it, Cas," Dean suddenly spouted, after a few seconds of awkward silence. "If me giving it up for Michael is looking like the only way here, why aren't you telling me I should?"

Cas jerked his head to the side, then back to Dean, then down to the floor, and he gulped in a sharp breath before looking back to Dean again, hands clenching and unclenching oddly around the pockets of his coat.

"There is no news on Lucifer," Cas said, pointedly not answering the question, and _what the fuck_? It almost looked like he was nervous about it, shy. The last time Cas looked like that was when he was faced with the question about, and possible taking of, his virginity, and Dean was sure as fuck not going to think about what might link that time with this one.

"Not that we expected any," Dean muttered, and tried not to feel disheartened, because they really hadn't. Any news they ever got, about anything in this fucked up apocalypse, was always a surprise, because there weren't too many people on their side, and Evil tended to keep quiet, at least about the important things.

He coughed unnecessarily, and stalked by the beds, and Cas, and picked his jacket up from where it'd been hanging over one of the chairs by the small table. "Who's hungry?" he asked, because it was almost seven o'clock, and he and Sam hadn't eaten yet. He wasn't even really hungry himself, but he needed something to do, and food was always awesome.

***

They ended up at the diner down the road, the same place Dean and Sam had been for supper the night before, and for breakfast that day, but this time they had a different waitress, and Dean felt his smile pull just a little higher than it had in a while.

Not that Caroline hadn't been great, hadn't smiled, and winked and given them an extra slice of pie for desert when Dean turned on the charm. But she'd also been going on sixty-five, and happily married, so it was kind of a waste of Dean's prowess.

But Mellie was in her early twenties, single and cute and homespun. Bouncy but not in an irritating way. And pretty much exactly what Dean needed to take his mind off… well, everything.

"What would you recommend for uh…" Dean started, and paused as he looked her up and down while she collected their plates. "Desert," he finished, grinning his best 'you know you want me' grin, and licking his lips.

She smiled politely at him, forced and tight, and he bristled, not having expected that. It wasn't that every girl he'd ever met had wanted him or anything, though most had. But she'd been paying extra attention to their table throughout their meal, and she hadn't more than glanced in Sam's direction, so Dean had been pretty sure it was him that she was interested in.

Dean had, however, forgotten to remember that Cas was a man, and an attractive one, who was sitting next to him along the bench seat. He was reminded of that fact, sharply, when Mellie's eyes slid over him, unseeing, and landing flat on Cas, drifting over his face lazily, and down his chest.

And then she… winked at him. Like, full on fucking winked, and shifted her weight so her hip jutted out, and she smiled all big and licked her tongue over her top lip, and raised her eyebrows in that stilted sort of 'come hither' way that Dean was used to being directed at him.

She was fucking flirting. With Cas.

And it _sucked_.

Sure, there had been a few girls over the years that had been more interested in Sam than him, and he chalked that up to mental deficiency, but… _Cas_? It made his blood feel too hot in his veins, and his muscles tighten up, and then there was the whole confused flip-flop of his belly when he actually thought about it, and realised that yeah, Cas was totally the kind of guy that people would flirt with.

Good looking, confident. Weird, sure, but who the fuck wasn't, when you got down to it? And he just had this thing about him, something that drew people in, made them want him. Not that Dean wanted him, but he'd just… He'd seen the way Cas could… and how he acted… Anyway, shut up.

Bottom line? Cas was hot, and Dean knew it, and so did Slutty McSlutterton, their waitress, and she showed that interest by leaning over their table towards Cas, shoving her cleavage in his face, smiling and fucking purring at him that their chocolate brownie sundae was to die for.

Castiel's eyes were drawn to her tits, because fuck, whose wouldn't be? And he swallowed and smiled and looked up at her, eyes so fucking wide and innocent, and then he ducked his head, like he was overcome by a sudden wave of shyness. His hand moved out a little, not quite touching hers on the table, but close, and he looked up at her again, trying for a smile, and landing pretty far off the mark.

It was almost painful to watch, but then Dean told himself that it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. Because their waitress was flirting with Cas, fine, but he wasn't flirting back. He wasn't. He couldn't be. And the smile he gave her was just him being polite, and the fact that he'd never bothered with those kinds of looks, or movements or almost touches before, was no reason to think that he hadn't suddenly developed a social conscience, right?

And the way Cas laughed at her lame joke, head tilted down as if he was much more reserved than he actually was, barest hint of teeth showing between his curved lips, well, that was just because he honestly thought that the one about the priest, the rabbi and the rowboat was actually funny.

Cas was capable of developing some variant of a human sense of humour. It could happen.

He totally was, and that still might be the culprit, even with Cas gulping down a hard ball of air, and staring unabashedly down Slutty's low cut top. Not that Dean was noticing. Not that Dean cared, even if he did notice.

She was flirting with Cas, but Cas was absolutely not flirting back. He fucking wasn't, because Cas didn't know _how_ to flirt, and if he did, he wouldn't do it with some random waitress. He was an _angel_, for fuck's sake, and he was way better than picking up sluts in a diner.

And if Dean had been hoping to pick up that same slut a few minutes ago, he was going to keep that information to himself. Because this wasn't about him, it was about Cas.

"Apple pie, please," Cas said, his voice almost cracking, and barely looking away from the girl's chest to glance at Dean. "Three slices. And the bill."

And Cas ordering desert for the three of them? Not even hot at all.

Dean managed to spew out enough words in Sam's direction that he could pass off as small talk, until Mellie got back with their pie. She put a plate down in front of each of them, and slapped the leather folder holding the bill down on the table in front of Cas, even though Dean was closer, leaning down extra low again, surprise surprise.

Cas managed to drag his face away from her tits and up to her face, swallowing again around a non-existent lump in his throat as his hand closed down over top of Slutty's on the bill, pulling it out from under her, closer to himself. "Thank you," he told her, voice all stupid gruff and sexy or whatever, because yeah, that was all she needed. A reason to want him even more.

Dean scowled and shot his own hand out, slapping it down on top of Cas', flashing an insincere grin up at the waitress. He pulled it back, closer, not letting go of Cas' hand until he couldn't possibly deny how awkward it was not to. "I got it," he said.

And sure, Cas didn't have any money, and couldn't possibly take care of the cheque himself, and it might actually be kind of funny to watch him fumble for what to do when it was sitting in front of him, waiting to be paid. But Dean mostly just wanted the waitress to know that _he_ was paying. And he mostly didn't want to think about why.

The girl shrugged, as if it didn't matter to her one way or the other, as long as she got her money, and grinned at Dean, wide, with a flash of teeth, before shooting Cas one last wink, and walking off, ass swaying side to side as she went.

Dean opened the folder and grumbled to himself, ignored Cas' steady look, and Sam's look of combined irritation and confusion, and made damn sure not to mention the white slip of paper with a phone number written across it, as he riffled through his wallet, and tossed the necessary amount of money down on the table.

He sucked down his pie in just a few incredibly large mouthfuls, pushed his plate away, crumbs dotting his lower lip, as he chewed around a huge bite of sweet apple and flakey crust. It was damn good pie.

"Well?" he asked, impatiently, when he was mostly finished, barely glancing at Sam, then Cas, noticing, but not caring, that they weren't finished. "What are we still doin' here?" He got up and walked away from the table, not bothering to wait for the other two slow-pokes. He could wait in the car.

***

"Wow," Sam said, taking a sip of the coffee he hadn't finished yet, and in no hurry to follow a moody Dean back to the motel. Even if Dean left without them, it was only a few blocks. An easy walk, even with the chill.

Cas had been watching Dean walk away, concentrating sort of hard on the line of his shoulders, but he easily and fluidly turned at Sam's words, hands flat on the table in front of him, and head slightly cocked. "What do you mean, 'wow'?"

"I'm impressed."

"With what?" Castiel's eyes were narrowed, and he was more than a little suspicious of Sam's tone, the mocking amusement. It probably meant trouble.

Sam smiled around the last bite of his pie, and swallowed. "I didn't actually think you'd do it."

Sam was being difficult, deliberately teasing him, and quite frankly, Castiel had better things to do than be the butt of yet another joke, his unfamiliarity with humanity another source for the Winchester brothers' amusement. "Do what?" he asked, and his face hardened even further, voice pitched low and gravely, more so than was the average these days.

"Make him jealous," Sam said, with a casual shrug, and ate another small bite of pie. "Nice work though."

"I wasn't…" Castiel protested, eyes widening sharply, and then he slouched, lowered his voice to a near whisper. "She was expressing sexual interest. It… flustered me. I was uncomfortable."

Sam grinned at him, one eyebrow raised expectantly. He seemed almost pleased. "So you stared at her chest?"

Cas scowled at him, even as he could feel heat radiating from his head down, blush spreading out across his cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay, man. If it makes you feel better, Dean was staring too. Or, he was, until he realised she was into you, and then he… well, then he kind of got all butch, and possessive." Sam's head tilted slightly, and his eyes were open, wide and expressive, and Castiel was confused, because he was clearly trying to make a point, honestly seemed to be hoping that this information would help somehow, but Castiel was at a loss.

"That _doesn't_ make me feel better, Sam," he responded, wondering why Sam would think that Dean wanting to fornicate with their waitress would make him feel better. Didn't Sam understand that Castiel _felt_ for Dean? Did he not know that it hurt to see that Dean would want someone else?

Sam rolled his eyes, but his smile stayed in place, and he looked at Castiel kindly. "He was possessive of _you_, Cas. He likes you. Just give him time."

Castiel considered Sam, considered his words, and the truth of them. It was possible he was right, but even if he was, what then? This was all so new to him, so foreign, and he had no idea how it worked, what to expect. Of course he'd seen thousands, millions, of courtships, couplings. He knew the mechanics of what to expect should he and Dean ever consummate their relationship, but he was wholly and completely unprepared for his personal reactions. What he would feel, physically and emotionally. What it would mean for them.

When he thought about it, he honestly couldn't imagine it changing much. The way they felt about each other wouldn't be altered based on the simple act of copulation. That didn't stop him from hoping that Sam was right.

***

Castiel stayed with the Winchesters for the next two, uneventful, days. They had no leads, no cases, no nothing, and they were hesitant to make a move unless they either had to, or had something to gain, so they kept quiet, stayed where they were, kept their eyes and ears open for anything of interest.

Sam filled out some credit card applications, Dean hustled some pool, and Castiel watched them both with detached interest. His instinct was to disapprove, but considering all he had done in the past year, he felt he was in no position to judge.

Besides, they needed the money, Dean and Sam. Castiel wished he could be more help, but his angelic powers, even more limited these days, couldn't help with food and shelter, not without breaking laws.

Castiel was more suited to other things. Thinking, planning, more recently fighting, though he'd never liked it much. He knew it was an angel's duty, and he did it without hesitation, fierce and deadly and smooth, but he preferred not to. And he knew it showed, when the time came. Or, it used to. He was adapting.

To many things.

He had nowhere to be for the time being, and the brothers had not asked him to leave, so he'd stayed. He even found that he enjoyed his time with them, two full days of not fighting for their lives, when they could let their guard down, fractionally, and just be. Rounds of pool for fun against one another after Dean had won enough money, hands of poker back at the motel, smiles and curses as shared money changed hands, the occasional bet made for something almost real, like driving rights, or the bed without the 'funky' stain.

Castiel was even included in their activities at times, though he failed to see the point. Even so, he felt content when he was with them. With Dean. Dean was safe, and as happy as he could be, and that was what mattered. Meant everything to Castiel, next to tracking down his father. And even then, the order of importance was questionable.

He had a hard time caring that the happiness of one man meant almost more to him that the welfare of an entire world, when two days later, Dean grinned at him, big and wide, like the weight of the world was somehow less than it normally was, slug one arm around his shoulder, and out of nowhere, told Castiel he was glad he'd stuck around.

Anything was worth it, if it put that smile on Dean's face.

Castiel was getting more and more used to this Earthly life, surrounded by mortals. And it was feeling less and less like he was missing something.

He still missed home, his father, his brothers and sisters, but the hollow ache he felt where their presence should fill him, was slowly diminishing. Not being filled up by something else, by Dean, because that would be impossible. He would be incomplete for the rest of his existence without his family, but the pain was… less than it had once been.

He was almost content.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

***

It was New Year's Eve. Which meant pretty much the same thing to the Winchester's as every other major holiday. The stores closed early, and for the next day and half, the general public just wanted to be left alone to eat too much, party too hard, and nurse their hangovers.

It wasn't like that mattered, since they hadn't picked up any new cases anyway, and since they had nothing better to do at the moment, Dean decided they should ring in the new year at the restaurant down the road.

Sam had thought it was a pretty good idea as well, and Cas had come along without complaint, and so far, it was a pretty decent night. The restaurant was on the small side, but it did have the advantage of being an actual restaurant, and not some greasy diner. One half of it had been cleared of tables, so that the space in front of the bar could be used as a dance floor. Obviously not the norm for a place like this, but given it was New Year's and probably one of the only parties in town, they were going all out. Not that anybody was dancing just yet, considering it was only nine o'clock, and there were less than twenty people there, but as the night wore on, and people started to drink a little more, Dean was sure that people would.

Small town, not much else to do, and enough booze, and people tended to loosen up. He liked places like this.

They were shown a table towards the back, and after a short wait, in which Dean and Sam casually checked out all the other people in the room, half instinct and half interest, and Cas studied the list of drinks that was propped up behind the ketchup bottle, a waitress came to take their order.

Her nametag was a plain brass rectangle, with 'Erin' engraved in the centre, coated with black paint, and like the rest of the wait staff, she wore plain black pants, with a black button down shirt. She looked nice. Pretty, with short dark hair and a slim waist, a friendly smile that Dean easily returned.

Sam ordered spaghetti, the kind that came with the three giant meatballs, and one of those salads that came in a bowl as big as your head, and Cas looked over the menu with an intensely furrowed brow, the choices apparently taking up a ridiculous amount of his concentration.

Dean snorted and shook his head, took the menu from him and handed it, along with his own, and Sam's the waitress. He offered her a lopsided grin, and flashed a narrow line of white teeth, tilted his head to the side, silently apologising for Cas' retardedness.

"Me and Colombo here are just gonna split a pizza. House special, please, sweetheart," he told her, winking, and grinning smugly when she blushed slightly. "And a pitcher of draught."

"You got it," she said, nodding at him, and then spared two brief glances at Sam and Cas before she walked off.

"I don't require sustenance, Dean," Cas told him, sounding irritatingly rational.

"Maybe not," Dean shrugged. "But food tastes good, it's fun, and you could use a little fun, Cas. Besides, you were starin' at that menu like it held the secrets of the universe. Figured you wanted something."

"The menu was… informative," Cas said, and glanced briefly at the drink list again. "I find the human desire for decadence fascinating."

"Well, we lowly beings need to get our kicks somehow."

"There's a lot to being human, Castiel," Sam said. "Part of that is finding small pleasures where we can. You might want to try it."

Sam's words sounded a little too pointed, and the look he gave Cas just a little too meaningful, and Dean frowned, opened his mouth to ask what the hell Sam was talking about, because he was obviously missing something, but then he caught sight of Cas out of the corner of his eye, fingers twitching restlessly around the corner of his napkin, and eyes focussed on a knot of wood on the tabletop in front of him.

Okay, that was… weird.

Erin came back then with their beer, placing the pitcher and three glasses down on the table, leaning a little too close to Dean while she did. "Your food'll be out in just a few," she told him, but was polite enough to offer Sam and Cas honest smiles before looking back at Dean. "If you need anything else, just wave me down."

She turned and made her way to another table, and Dean tilted his head to watch her walk away, nodding and blowing out a low, appreciative whistle. She had a nice ass. Sam thought so too, based on the way his eyes were lingering, though he tried to look away quickly when Dean noticed, and he snickered at him.

Cas just started at him, his look indecipherable yet hard, like he was being chastised or something. Like Dean had been acting his immature, slightly sleazy self yet again, and Cas was getting more and more sick of it. It made Dean shift in his seat. Pout and pull his shirt tighter around his body.

Which, what the hell? Cas wasn't the boss of him. He could take that waitress home if he wanted to. He _didn't_, but whatever. And it wasn't because Cas was giving him that look either. He scowled at the beer and poured each of them a glass, drinking half of his in one swallow, and then plopped the glass down on the table with a thud, nodding to himself, and shooting a glance at Cas. _So there_.

Sam snorted in confused amusement, and even Cas looked at him like he was having an especially difficult time understanding why Dean felt the need to prove that he could drink his beer as fast as he wanted, and Dean felt kind of stupid. It wasn't like his brother or his angel knew that he'd been feeling so off lately, and even if they'd noticed, it wasn't like he had any sort of explanation.

Just because he was sort of starting to notice when Cas noticed other people, and just because he was feeling a fucked up desire to have him around, all the fucking time, and just because he was finding that more and more these days he was doing and saying things just to see that almost, barely there, hint of a smile on Cas' face, well… there was really no logical way _to_ explain all that.

In a few minutes, as promised, Erin returned with their food, and another round of smiles. Sam made almost pornographic noises while he ate his, moaning and slurping and chewing noisily on meatballs, eating mouthfuls of leafy greens so big that he had a hard time fitting it all in, and dripping dressing down his chin. Which was odd, because that was usually Dean's thing. Sam was typically a pretty neat eater.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Dean asked, pulling a disgusted face. "How long has it been since you ate?"

"Mmmm," Sam answered, happily chomping around a tomato. "It's _good_. Seriously, I haven't had food this good in… God, it's been years. Since… Since I was at school, I guess."

Sam got quiet then, twirling his spaghetti around his fork, and Dean picked a green pepper off his pizza slice, and studied it disinterestedly before popping it into his mouth. Stanford was long in the past for Sam, almost forgotten and he'd definitely moved on from it, accepted his life now, embraced it even. But it hadn't been that long since that son of a bitch Lucifer had shown up in Sam's head dressed like Jess, and Dean knew the memories were closer to the surface than they usually were.

Luckily Cas broke the slight moroseness by shamelessly spitting out his first bite of pizza onto the plate in front of him. "I don't like pepperoni," he said, when the brothers turned to him, and he stuck the tip of his tongue out between his lips, as if thinking it through, to make sure he'd been right about the specific food that he didn't like, and then washed the taste away with large swig of beer.

Dean chuckled, and reached over the table, taking two slices of the pizza and putting them down on Cas' plate, before he easily tore off all the slices of pepperoni and stuffed them all into his mouth. He grinned widely at Cas around his mouthful, and slid the plate back over to him.

"Better?" he asked, the word coming out muffled as he chewed, then swallowed.

Sam huffed. "Dude, that's gross."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Cas looked at him, blinked, and then looked down to his plate. "Thank you, Dean," he finally said, and took another bite.

It went down without complaint this time, and Dean nodded happily, and got back to his own food.

They ate slowly, taking their time and going through two more pitchers of beer over the next hour and a half, and by the time they were done, stuffed full and heavily buzzed, the restaurant had gotten significantly more crowded.

Erin came back with their bill, smiled coyly at Dean and put it down in front of him. "You can keep it open if you want," she offered. "If you guys are planning on sticking around for the celebration, just bring it up to the bar."

"Thanks, honey," Dean smiled, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. "We'll settle up now, just in case." He completely planned on sticking around, but he thought it would be better if he paid for their food now, and then if they wanted more drinks they could just buy them as they went. He put a credit card down on the plastic slab, and pushed it towards her.

"Be right back," she smiled, and Sam snorted as she walked away.

"What?"

"Seriously?" Sam asked, and Cas swirled the last dregs of his drink around in the bottom of his cup, and maybe Dean was more buzzed than he thought, but it seemed like the angel was going out of his way to _not_ pay attention. "You're not really gonna hook up with her, are you?"

"What?" Dean asked. "She's hot." He felt Sam's gaze on him, heavy with meaning, like there was something that he just wasn't getting about all this, and he pulled his face tight and shook his head. "Whatever. Just 'cause _you_ can't get any…"

"Yeah," Sam said, all sarcasm and head nodding. "That's _exactly_ the problem, Dean."

"Well then _what_?" Fuck, Sam had always been kind of bitchy, but he didn't usually care so much when Dean hooked up. Not that Dean was planning on hooking up.

Sam's eyes flashed to Cas, but then back to Dean so quickly that he thought he might have imagined it. "Nothing, dude."

"Whatever," Dean mumbled, and Erin came back with the slip for 'D. Aykroyd' to sign.

"I get off at eleven," she whispered to him, and then flipped over Dean's copy of the bill, pointing a well manicured finger casually at the series of digits she'd written on the back, her cell phone number, and moved to the next table, to take another order.

Dean smiled smugly and folded up the number, stuffing it in his coat pocket, ignoring the way Sam rolled his eyes. Dean liked to flirt, and it was fun to get some attention, but honestly, he had no intention of calling her. He wasn't even completely sure why, but he just wasn't in the mood. He was happy enough to just spend a night chillin' out and having some drinks with Sam and Cas. Random sex just didn't seem all that appealing at the moment.

The bar and dance floor area was starting to fill up by the time they were finished, so they headed in that direction, and ended up hovering around the bar, Dean and Sam perched on the only two available stools, and Cas standing awkwardly between them, with a bottle of beer hanging loosely in his fingers.

They chatted and drank for another half hour or so, and Dean was feeling pretty damn good. Almost all the way to drunk, and the music wasn't too terrible, his belly was full and company was good. It was a good night. Simple pleasures that reminded him that the world wasn't completely shit, not just yet, and that it was still worth saving, that it still _could_ be saved.

Dean had long ago learned to take simple pleasures where he could. It was all that got him through. That and Sam. And now Cas.

He noticed Sam eyeing up a girl across the room, pretty Dean supposed, but a little on the short side, and her clothes were kind of prudish. Not really his type, but he could see Sam having a little fun with her. Now, the girl standing _next_ to the one Sam was checking out… If Dean had been cruising for a cheap hook up, she would _definitely_…

"Hey, uh…" Dean's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the voice behind him, unfamiliar, so it wasn't Sam or Cas, and turned to find out who it was, and what they wanted. As it turned out, who it was, was a man, about Dean's age, a bit shorter, with a build more like Cas, short blond hair, pretty decent looking with a bit of a five o'clock shadow.

And what he wanted, was Cas.

"Think I could buy you a drink?" he asked, staring straight at the angel, and acting, for the most part, like Dean and Sam weren't even there.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, and Dean's would have too, if he wasn't so busy scowling, because what the fuck? This wasn't a gay bar, and Cas didn't ooze 'queer' from his pores of anything. And this guy had to be either brave or stupid to walk up to some guy who generally looked pretty damn straight, and hit on him.

Cas just looked at him, puzzled frown, tilted head, and the guy smiled shyly, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Hey, if you don't swing that way, it's cool, man. Just thought I'd give it a try. No pressure. We can just talk, or whatever."

"He…" Dean started, even though the guy hadn't been talking to him, and probably didn't want to hear anything from him at all. His first instinct, after telling the guy to fuck off, Cas had all the friends he needed right here, thanks, was to say something like 'he's an angel'. Which yeah, wouldn't have gone over very well. The guy probably would have thought it was a pet name, and that Dean and Cas were a thing. Which would be one way of getting rid of him, but probably not the best way to go.

Then he wanted to point out the fact that no, Cas _didn't_ swing that way, but when he actually went to say the words, he found that he wasn't so sure if that was true. They'd never really talked about it. For all he knew, the reason Cas was so nervous around women was because he'd rather be with a man. Or hell, maybe he liked both, or maybe he really just wasn't interested in sex at all.

Though something told Dean that that wasn't the case. He hadn't exactly put up much of a fight when Dean had told him he was going to get him laid all those months ago. Not until he found out exactly what Dean's plan was.

"He's already got a drink," Dean settled on telling the guy, voice low and bordering on warning. Which, yeah. Lame. But he couldn't come up with anything else to get the guy to leave. He didn't even bother to think that maybe he shouldn't. Maybe Cas would actually want to talk to this guy. Because that would kind of suck.

Cas blinked then, and looked down to the almost empty bottle in his hand. He lifted it and studied the few drops of liquid, sloshing them around. Sam shot Dean a look that clearly said 'dude, what the fuck? Back off. Cas is a big boy, and he can make his own decisions,' and grabbed the bottle from Cas.

He drank the last sip himself, and smiled as he put the bottle down on the bar top. "Not anymore," he said happily. "You want another, Cas?" Sam asked him, and Dean wanted to slap him. If Cas wanted to go off with this guy he could go, but did Sam have to practically _push_ him at the dude?

Dean felt Cas' eyes on him, but he didn't meet them. Just kept staring at the new guy, and the way he was checking out Cas, openly eyeing him up and down, now that Sam was trying to play matchmaker, and he figured he had a shot. It made Dean feel dirty. If anyone was going to check out Cas like that, it should be him, not some random barfly. At least Dean would respect him in the morning. Not that, you know, Dean ever _would_ check Cas out.

Probably.

"It appears as though I need another," Cas said, carefully neutral, and glancing at his empty bottle.

"Awesome," the guy smiled.

"Yeah, awesome," Dean grumbled.

Sam pulled a face and stood, grabbing Dean by the sleeve of his shirt, pulling him to his feet as well. "You guys take our seats," he offered, and ignored Dean's stuttering protest, dragging him off down the bar. "We're just gonna…" he trailed off and nodded his head in the vague direction they were heading, and Cas just stared after them, his attention drawn away only when he was handed a drink by his new friend.

***

Dean wrenched his arm away from Sam, grumbling something about 'sasquatch hands' and 'let go of me', and the material of Dean's love sleeve shirt was tugged out from between his fingers so quick and sharp that it left a mild burn. Sam would never tell him this, at least not without back-up, but Dean was kind of adorable when he was acting all grumpy and pouty.

A seriously annoying, pain in the ass kind of adorable, but still. It was cute.

He was actually pretty sure that Cas didn't even want that drink, and he especially didn't want a strange, handsome man to buy it for him. He'd drink whatever you put in front of him, for the most part, if Dean gave it to him, or Sam, or even Bobby, but drinking was strictly a method of social interaction for Castiel, and he didn't really seem all that keen on… socially interacting with that guy.

Still, Sam had kind of pushed him into it, because maybe it would help Dean to get a clue, if he realised what he might be missing out on by keeping his head nice and warm up his ass.

Sam led them to a spot a few meters away and then leaned against the wall, and after taking another sip of his drink, nodded his head at the space next to him, indicating that Dean should join him. "You got somewhere to be?" he asked around a smile. "God, relax Dean. You look you're gonna burst a blood vessel or something."

Dean's mouth dropped open, and he glanced back at Cas, jaw ticking and tightening when the blond guy laughed and placed a hand on Cas' forearm. Wow, Dean was just too easy. "Dude, what the hell was that?" he hissed.

"Funny, Dean, 'cause I was gonna ask you that."

"What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who practically threw Cas in that guy's lap! What next, Sammy? You gonna offer them our motel room?"

Sam just smiled calmly, and all the muscles in Dean's face tightened, then quickly relaxed as he took a deep breath. He knew he was being stupid, and trying to calm down, that much was clear, but he got the feeling that still hadn't quite figured _why_ he was so bothered. Or, at least he hadn't admitted it to himself. Which was okay. Sam could help with that.

Dean was looking over at Cas again, hand wrapped so tightly around his bottle that Sam was actually worried that he'd break it. Two people who'd been sitting at the bar got up, leaving their stools vacant, and when Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder to point it out, Dean jumped and jerked his head, let out a heavy sigh when he realised it was Sam.

"Dude, jumpy much? Seats," he said, indicating them with his chin.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled as they sat. "I was just…"

"Staring at Cas? Yeah, I noticed. You're not exactly subtle Dean." He never had been, and just because Dean was too stupid to realise what his recent behaviour meant, didn't mean anyone else was.

That got Dean's attention. "What are you talking about?"

Sam shrugged, going for his best innocent face, and twirled his beer bottle around on the table. "As far as I even knew, you aren't… into guys." Which was totally and completely true, before Cas. Well, there was the whole Dr. Sexy thing, but he was a fictional character, so it didn't really count. That was no doubt Dean's biggest problem with this whole thing.

"What?! I'm not!" Dean shouted, looking at Sam like he'd just said something extremely scandalous, and looking jerkily around them to make sure nobody had heard him. "What the _fuck_, man?"

Sam smirked, because really, this was just too much fun. He wanted to help his brother out, he really did. Wanted him to see that what he so obviously wanted was right there, waiting for him to take it, and that it really could make him happy. And if he was going out of his way to help his brother out like this, the least he deserved was to find a little genuine amusement in the whole thing.

But he was also worried. About Cas.

He knew, even without any input from Sam, that it was only a matter of time until Dean cracked. Until something or other pushed him over the edge, and he took what he wanted. Which would be great, except that if Dean hadn't thought it through first, he was likely to freak the hell out. Blame it on circumstances, and pull back even further, end up resenting Castiel, and himself, and it would break Castiel's heart.

If Dean didn't feel anything for him in the first place, Cas could handle that kind of hurt. But what he'd feel if he thought Dean had just used him, and then discarded him, that would be a lot harder to live with. And since their world was pretty much down to the three of them plus Bobby these days, they really couldn't afford for pride and fear and misunderstandings to come between them.

Dean needed to face this. Ease into it if he needed to, but he needed to face it, before he fucked things up.

"I know you're into him, Dean," he said simply, and lifted his hand to shut Dean up when it looked like he was going to protest, or play stupid again, and pretend he didn't know exactly what Sam was talking about. "And I know it's freaking you out, and I guess that's kind of my point. You can't… He's… If you're gonna do this with him, you need to be sure. You can't just use him to experiment or whatever."

"Dude!" Dean said, the word coming out as a high-pitched squeak, as Dean actually started to panic. "What the hell is your problem? Nobody's _experimenting_ with anybody! I'm not into dudes, I'm not into Cas!"

"Yeah?" Sam countered, and his tone was still gentle, and almost amused, not rising to meet the tension in Dean's. "Then why are your fingernails digging holes into the top of the bar?" Dean looked down, frowned as though he'd just noticed it, and Sam continued. "Why have gotten so pissed off every time he even talks to anybody, or even _looks_ at anybody?"

Dean kept on looking at his hand as he slowly relaxed it, placing his palm flat on the wood. He didn't argue, and Sam was almost surprised that Dean actually seemed to be thinking about what Sam said. Sam was completely right, of course, but Dean's usual instinct was to argue, even if he knew he couldn't win. Sam didn't need Dean to come to any life-changing decisions today, just wanted to get Dean thinking, so he pushed just a little more.

"Just… He loves you, Dean. He doesn't even know what it means, not really, and he sure as hell doesn't know what to do with it. And he'll do anything you ask him to, even if it's not good for him. So don't fuck him over."

Dean's eyes came up to meet his, then moved to Cas, watched him for several long seconds, almost smiling while the blond talked animatedly, and then back to Sam. "You don't know what you're talking about," he told him, but he sounded tired, defeated. _Nice try_, Sam thought.

"This could be good for you, Dean. And for him. But be careful. He's just as confused as you are, and I don't want to see either of you hurt."

***

Dean was rude. This was not news to Castiel, though Dean could be excessively charming and polite when the result would be in his favour. Castiel wasn't very impressed with either extreme of his personality, but everything about Dean, even his less than exemplary traits, made him Dean.

And he'd become Dean's friend for who he was: Loving, most of all. Genuinely friendly and humorous, while still reserved, almost crippled by insecurity at times, while at others so ridiculously confident he shone with it. Smart-mouthed and insolent, loyal and self-sacrificing. Beautiful and good. Dean was a good man, at his core. Had always done what he thought was right, not what he thought would gain him the most, and that simple fact made him stand out amongst everyone else, man or angel, that Castiel had ever known.

But he was still rude, and it wouldn't hurt for Castiel to set an example of appropriate manners, on the rare occasion that he could.

He had planned to politely decline the young man's offer of a drink, but after Sam had expressed as much disapproval for Dean's behaviour as Castiel was feeling, he felt he had no choice but to accept.

He was… being polite. And perhaps, teaching Dean a lesson.

Shaun, it turned out, was the man's name, and Shaun was friendly. He was welcoming, and warm, and Castiel found it easy to relax in his company. He drank slowly, listened avidly, and even attempted to infuse his own opinions and observations into the conversation.

He couldn't help but glance over Shaun's shoulder to Dean, to the hard set of his jaw and his tight shoulders, his pronounced cheekbones, and Castiel felt a sinful rush of validation. It wasn't the first time he'd seen that look, but he was quickly starting to see a pattern in the times that Dean gave it to him. It was jealousy in Dean's eyes. Castiel was almost sure of it. Sam, it turned out, much as Castiel loved Dean, was definitely the smarter brother.

They finished their drinks, and Shaun bought them another, and even another after that, and Castiel found that he was enjoying himself. It was… nice, he supposed, to talk with someone, and true to his word, Shaun did not press for more. After an hour, when it was only a couple of minutes to midnight, Castiel excused himself, told Shaun he had to get back to his friends, and the man smiled at him, shook his hand and kissed his cheek, and wished him well.

By the time he got back to Dean and Sam, they had joined another group of people, several young ladies and two other men, and when he silently walked up to them, Dean reached out a hand and closed his fingers around Castiel's shoulder, pulling him to stand next to him, so close that Castiel's coat brushed against Dean's side.

Dean reached over to a nearby table and picked up a glass, champagne, Castiel guessed, and placed it in his hand, as the room started to count down from ten, buzzing with excitement that a new year was about to begin. Castiel thought it appropriate not to ruin the festivities by pointing out that there was a good chance that none of these people would see the end of the year 2010.

When the crowd simultaneously chanted "one!", and horns were honked and whistles blown, drinks were drunk, music started up and confetti dropped from the ceiling. People started to pair off, to meet each other in kisses, some affectionate, some silly, and decidedly lustful. Other things as well, possibly, but Castiel had never understood this tradition.

Several of the men and women standing near them paired up. Sam leaned forward to kiss the young woman standing next to him, and Castiel turned his head toward Dean, waiting, and wondering if there was some woman that he had planned to kiss. It did seem to be tradition.

But he didn't.

He coughed, cleared his throat, his eyes shifted nervously from side to side, and his hand rubbed over the stitching on his jeans pocket as he settled his gaze on Castiel.

"Stupid tradition anyway," he said, and sounded endearingly unsure of himself. Castiel couldn't help his slight smile when the woman who had waited their table earlier came up to Dean, trying to get his attention, and he waved her off with a friendly hand, and a "sorry, I promised my friend a drink."

He hadn't, of course, but that didn't stop Castiel from following Dean up to the bar yet again.

***

They didn't stay long after midnight. There wasn't much really to stay for, after Dean and Cas shared one more round, and Sam sucked a little bit of face with the girl he'd met.

Dean teased him good-naturedly about it on the walk back to the motel, told him he didn't have to leave, offered to let him have the room for a little quality time with the girl, and he and Cas could wait outside in the Impala.

"Classy, Dean," Sam snorted. Hiccupped. He'd probably had more to drink tonight than Dean had, and he tended not to handle it nearly as well. It was almost cute. As long as he didn't start waxing poetic about what an awesome brother Dean was, and how he was lucky to have him. That happened once. It wasn't pretty.

"Oh, we'd turn the music up loud enough that we wouldn't hear anything," Dean joked, grinning. "Right Cas?"

Cas nodded, gravely serious. "I could also soundproof the room." Dean had no idea whether or not Cas was joking, but that didn't stop him letting out an amused snort of laughter. Sam tried to scowl, but Dean knew he was smiling, too.

When they were back in the room Sam was looking a little wobbly, and after a few knocks against the wall while he tried to take his shoes off, he blinked, and shook his head. "I'ma take a shower," he told them, and staggered off into the bathroom. "I smell like a chick."

"Dude, you always smell like a chick."

"Bite me."

"Try not to drown," he happily called out after him, and Sam's arm sprang up, shooting Dean the bird over his shoulder before he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Dean took his own shoes off, and his jacket, tossing it onto the chair by the door. He looked back at Cas, who was just standing there, in front of the door, hands down at his sides, watching Dean calmly.

It totally wasn't weird. There was no reason for it to be weird. They'd done this dozens of times before, this being alone in a room together, but Sam, the stupid ass, had gone and started to put ideas in Dean's head.

But yeah, it wasn't weird, because Sam was wrong. Dean didn't… he wasn't… He wasn't interested in Cas, not… like that. He wasn't. And even if he was, Cas sure as fuck wasn't interested back.

Okay, so Dean couldn't exactly deny that he had been acting a little bitchy lately when Cas' attention was on anybody but him. But that wasn't because he _wanted_ Cas, was it? It was just because Dean was so used to being Cas' sole focus whenever the angel was around. He'd come to expect it, _crave_ it even, because having Cas focussed on him, all that intensity and occasional softness, the understanding and the blind affection, even the anger and the disapproval, the fire in his eyes… that was one motherfucker of an addiction.

And so yeah, maybe there _was_ more to it than Dean had thought, but denial was a very powerful thing. Especially for a Winchester. And recognising that fact seriously didn't help with whatever fucked up feelings were rattling around inside his head. It only made it worse. Because he still had no fucking idea what it even meant.

There was probably only one way to find out though, and he told the voice inside his head, the one that sounded suspiciously like Sam, to shut the hell up. This wasn't experimenting, this wasn't fucking with Cas, this was… This was something he suddenly and acutely realised that he just… wanted to do.

He cleared his throat, a stupid nervous habit that he knew gave him away, and yet couldn't help, and he looked over at Cas, took two slow steps in his direction. "Look, Cas…" he started, because really, he hadn't thought this through very well, and he was pretty drunk, and there was probably no good way to break the news to an angel in a man's body that he was planning on kissing him. "I…"

Cas cocked his head and tilted his chin down, looked up at Dean through thick black eyelashes. "Yes Dean?" he asked, voice soft and silky smooth, completely submissive but for that spark of mocking. The one that always made Dean shiver, made him think that Cas was way more perceptive than he let on.

Dean blushed, and smiled, looked down at the ground as he took one more step, the last necessary to put him right in front of Cas. He looked up, leaned in, and quickly closed the small space between their faces, lips landing softly on lips in their very first kiss.

The whole thing lasted no more than two seconds.

It was fast, innocent, just lips pressing together, slightly off the mark so that Cas' top lip was slotted between Dean's, and Dean was still for only a breath, taking in the scent of Cas, his fingers twitching at his sides, eager to move, to claw, to _something_, and the back of his neck raising up in gooseflesh.

Cas didn't move under him, didn't even turn his head for a better angle. He didn't breath, he didn't kiss back, he made no move whatsoever to touch Dean.

But, he didn't push Dean away. Which maybe should have made Dean feel better, but didn't.

Dean pulled back, licked his lips and looked at Cas' mouth, still and perfect, the angel just standing there with same damn blank expression on his face like nothing had just happened, and Dean swallowed the bitter feeling of rejection, told himself that it didn't matter. This had been a mistake anyway.

"Happy New Year, buddy," he managed to choke out, and turned to hide his embarrassment, opened the fridge and stuck his head inside, blocking himself behind the door and pretending to look for something to eat.

Fuck, he felt like an idiot. He wasn't going to be stupid enough to make that mistake again.

***

Castiel brought his hand to his mouth, touching his lips reverently with the tips of three fingers. Dean had kissed him. Dean Winchester had kissed him. And even though he'd expected it, he'd stood there dumbly, not knowing how to react.

It was nothing, the kiss. Not compared to the other two he had received in this body. Just a small peck, a brief flash of touch and feeling, over much too quickly, but it had meant everything.

It turned something on inside Castiel, awakened desires he thought he could not possess. He didn't merely love Dean, he craved Dean's touch, and wanted Dean to crave him in return. It was strange, and slightly terrifying, and large part of him wanted to push it down, hide it, make it go away, but it was too late for that.

"Happy New Year, Dean," Castiel answered quietly, and it was okay that Dean wasn't ready yet. They had time.

By the time Dean stood up, holding a sad looking, half eaten sandwich, Castiel was gone.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

***

A week after New Year's, Dean seemed to have forgotten the little promise he made to not make a huge ass of himself in the Cas department. Either that, or his brain had just shut off altogether, because he kissed him. Again.

It was more of a kiss than the embarrassing attempt at one that Dean had given on New Year's, but he hadn't meant to do it, and he was kicking himself for it the second it was over. No, that wasn't right. Even before it was over, he was regretting it, because Cas didn't seem interested the last time, and this time it didn't go much better.

Dean still wasn't even sure where this new fucked up desire to mack on an angel had come from, and since Cas didn't seem to be similarly fucked up, Dean had decided he was better off just trying to get the fuck over it.

To ignore it, because it was clearly ridiculous. Cas didn't want him, and when he really stopped to think about it, he knew he'd realise that he didn't want Cas either. It was just circumstances. Close quarters, nobody else around, an intense emotional bond that Dean didn't know what to do with, and turned on its ass, mistaking it for something else.

Dean felt like the biggest moron on the planet.

It started out as kind of an accident.

***

It was stupid, really. This whole bogus mission they were on, and they'd all known that going in, known that it was probably a trap, but they'd gone in anyway.

They'd heard whispers, a few different sources, none of them even remotely credible, that there was a weapon out there more powerful than the Colt, one that could, perhaps, if used properly and held by the right person, kill Lucifer. They weren't even sure what this supposed weapon was, even if it did exist, and had turned out to be in a shipping warehouse in Philadelphia, at 4 o'clock in the morning on January 7th.

Some said it was a dagger, a collector in North Carolina thought it was a pistol, and a low-level demon going through a serious identity crisis, that they'd tracked down outside Hoboken, swore to them, just before Sam put a magic bullet in his brain, that it was an indecipherable spell, carved into an ancient stone tablet.

Didn't really matter what form this non-existent weapon was supposed to take, because it wasn't there. What was there, was demons. Twelve of them, ready and waiting, to kill Dean and take Sam to Lucifer.

Three were on Sam, Dean noticed, but they didn't look they were trying to hurt him. Not seriously, anyway. They had him more or less backed against the wall, flanking him from either side, deflecting his blows, or half of them at least, because Sam was a pretty awesome fighter, and there was no way he wasn't going to get at least a few good hits in.

One of them seemed to get sick of being hit in the nose after about the third or fourth time. Or, Dean thought it was probably that many times. He was a little busy trying to fight off the two demons that were on him, who apparently had no compunctions about ending him. Sometimes Dean thought there were significant perks to be had for being Lucifer's bitch, as opposed to Michael's.

Dean had the Colt, but he hadn't had it drawn when they went in. Didn't want to just go in waving it around, essentially shouting 'Hey, demons! Here's one of the only things in the world that can kill you. Come and steal it from me, please!'. And seeing as how he was currently getting repeatedly punched in the stomach by one demon, while the other playfully batted his hands away, grinning crookedly at him each time he tried to retaliate against the first one, he was kind of having a hard time getting to the gun.

But anyway, his main priority here was Sam, because he could not, _could fucking not_, let anything happen to his little brother. And even if he wouldn't have done whatever it took to save Sam, he'd do whatever it took to stop Lucifer from getting hold of his meat. When that happened, it was over. And Dean was just not ready for it to be over. Not yet.

Out of the corner of his eye, while he was attempting to block a punch to the right side of his face, he saw one of the demons attacking Sam hold up his hand, and back Sam went, slamming against the wall. He heard Sam cough, cry out, but that was it. He was quiet after that, and Dean had to believe that he was still okay. The demons wouldn't hurt him, right? They needed him.

Of course they did. And Dean was going to kill the motherfucking sons of bitches that had even bothered to _think_ they could take Sammy away from him. Just as soon as he wasted the fuckers that were using him for a little fight club practice.

Hell, maybe Cas could hurry the fuck and help out. Dean glanced in the angel's direction, blinking away the drops of blood that were dripping from his eyebrow and over his lashes, squinting to make out the action.

His heart froze. Clenched in his chest and actually fucking stopped beating, just for a second, because holy fucking fuck, this was _not good_, and he didn't think he could lose Cas any more than he could Sam. And if Cas didn't pull some sort of miracle out of his ass, that looked exactly like what was going to happen.

Fuck!

Cas had the knife, which was pretty damn convenient, since seven of the demons decided it would be a great idea to get together to try to take him out, and since he couldn't kill the sons of bitches with the heel of his hand on their foreheads anymore, couldn't burn their evil away with a simple touch in a blinding flash of light, he was vulnerable.

Now, he couldn't kill demons any easier than they could kill him.

Which was to say, not at all.

No, now he was just as limited as Dean and Sam were. Not quite as easy to pick off, because Cas was still one hell of a kick-ass fighter, and pound for pound one of the toughest sons of a bitches he knew, so he could easily hold his own against your average Joe Demon without breaking a sweat. Two or three of them even. Four if he was in the zone.

But seven… seven looked like just about one over his limit. Even with the knife.

He killed three of them pretty easily, And a flood of pride washed over Dean, because hell the fuck yeah, that was _his_ angel, going all bad ass motherfucker on those hellspawn, all clean lines and short movements, knife in and out, blood and swift hands, and bodies cooling at his feet.

Dean fought his ever-present urge to vomit when he thought about the fact that even though the demons were dead, so were just as many humans, because the middle of a fight for their lives wasn't the time for grief or remorse.

The fifth demon gave Cas a bit of trouble, getting a few well placed hits, obviously causing Cas some significant pain before he wasted the bastard, backhand swipe of the knife to cut his neck open, and the demon fell to the ground, coughing and sparking electricity, eventually motionless.

The last two took advantage of his weakened state, pushing him up against the wall, holding him there with arms and legs, fists against Cas' powerful fists, and Dean heard the beginnings of a chant. An exorcism. Fucking shits were trying to send Cas back to heaven.

Which would fucking suck, because pretty much the worst place in the universe for Cas to be at the moment was heaven, for a nice little family reunion. Raphael had given him a bye the last time they met, but they weren't counting on Cas getting that lucky next time, weren't counting on his other brothers and sisters being quite so generous.

They probably wouldn't kill him, not with things so uncertain at the moment, but they'd probably do whatever they could to keep him away from Dean, and Sam. And there was no way on God's green Earth that Dean was going to ever fucking let that happen.

Dean heard a sudden, sharp cry from Sam's direction, just as he felt a hard elbow to his kidney. Fucking bitch! It was a girl, this demon. Or at least in the body of a girl, since he wasn't exactly sure if demons had sexual identities any more than angels did. But fuck, it didn't really matter, because a demon was a demon, and one was just as evil as the next, as a rule. Dean had met a couple of exceptions in his time, though he didn't like to think about it. It greyed things, made life hard.

He wanted to look to Sam, wanted to run to him, to beat down whatever was threatening him, but of course, he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he kicked, almost blindly, but instinct must count for one hell of a lot because he fucking _rocked_ that bitch! Right in the kneecap, and he heard it crack, heard her cry out and saw her stumble, hands to her leg as she shuffled back briefly, before smiling evilly and coming at him again.

The guy, some kind of lame, overweight, Bon Jovi reject with bad hair, smirked at him. All lazy, and knowing, like he had all the time in the fucking world, the stupid-ass piece of demonic waste. Then again, Dean might have been playing up his injuries a little more than he needed to, but hell, it wasn't his fault that demons were morons. He was just using it to his advantage.

The quiet jab to the guy's jaw came mostly out of nowhere, and Dean used the second and a half the shock afforded him to reach behind him, fingers dragging across the top of his pants, skimming over the butt of beautiful, cold, metal. _Fuck_, he sighed and barely resisted closing his eyes, the feel of the Colt against his fingers better than fucking _sex_ at this point, but he managed to blink himself out of it, and grab hold before the man-demon raised his hand, and Dean felt himself sliding backward.

The shaky start to the assault turned out to be leeway enough, because Dean's fingers closed over the gun handle, tight and sure, and he slipped it out from his pants, turned it around, and aimed it, quickly, and suddenly he was let go.

The demons were backing off, stepping away, hands up in surrender and eyes wide, and Dean couldn't help but laugh. Because this shit was fucking funny. They obviously weren't very high up on the totem pole if they were acting this scared. And he'd taken both by such genuine surprise that he was certain this hadn't been a play for the Colt.

It didn't take more than a grunt from Sam and an odd hiccup followed by a low moan from Cas, to shake Dean's attention.

Sam first, because it was always Sam first.

No matter what his libido, or his pansy ass heart was telling him these days, his first priority was always Sam.

He took his own demons down so stupidly easy that he almost didn't believe it, just a flick of a wrist and pull of his trigger finger, deadly pieces of metal lodging inside two bodies, pulling the life out of them in bright flashes of success.

He'd never been so glad to be taken for a fool, but when the demons were dead on the ground, he spun immediately on Sam, walked forward two, three steps, and unloaded, three bullets, one into each demon that had the fucking sac to go anywhere near his brother.

Five seconds after Sam had been plastered against the wall, bleeding from the mouth and teeth clenched tightly in his vain attempt to fight the demon mojo that kept him there, palms flat against the drywall, the three demons surrounding him were on the ground, wide holes spilling out their blood.

They hadn't even seen it coming, because apparently they were too busy having a little fun roughing Sam up some to have been bothered by the gunshots that had taken down their friends, and they hadn't even turned to see what had happened. Which made sense, Dean supposed, because guns couldn't hurt demons, and this group didn't seem to know that Dean had the Colt.

Three shots, three hits, three dead demons. It was a good thing that he didn't miss, because those were his last three bullets. The rest were back in the safe in their room, since they had figured five bullets plus the knife would be more than enough, and they didn't want to chance losing any ammo.

Dean smiled. For almost a second.

The demons were bleeding.

Sam collapsed to the ground, landed on his knees, panting, pulling in deep lungfulls of air, and holding one of his arms tight around his stomach. He was obviously hurt, but Dean didn't know if it was the arm, his abdomen, or both. Probably more, too, based on the way Sam was hissing in his breaths through clenched teeth, but he was still in one piece, and the demons were dead, so that was good.

But then Sam lifted his head slowly, to look at the fallen demon closest to him. To the wide gaping wound on his neck, the dark red trickle of blood running down the pale skin of his throat and over the curve of muscle to create a small pool on the dirty floor. Sam froze, tensed up hard, and then started to shake, licked his lips and stared. Didn't even blink for several long seconds, until Dean startled him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Sam!" Dean called, and Sam jerked, twitched and turned to face Dean, blinking a couple of times. Sam hadn't had any of that hooch in a while, Dean was pretty sure, but he didn't know if the cravings were gone completely. And he didn't even know if this blood counted as demon blood, since the demons were dead now, and all that was left were a few fresh _human_ corpses, and Dean didn't even know if the idea of Sam drinking human blood was more or less disturbing than him drinking demons. "You okay?"

Sam knew just as well as Dean did that what he really meant was 'are you gonna drink that shit and go all hulk on us?', but to his credit, he didn't argue, didn't protest, didn't tell Dean to stop treating him like a baby. Just sucked in another gasp of air and nodded, looked at Dean like he meant it. "Fine, Dean," he told him, and the words came out just tight enough that Dean knew he was still in pain. He'd live, but he'd probably need some patching up when they got back to the motel.

The muted, squishy sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a chocked off cry of pain, had them both starting, and turning, suddenly remembering that it wasn't just the two of them here. There was still an angel, and two demons trying to send his ass back to heaven. The chanting had stopped, but only briefly, because the one working the exorcism was the unfortunate bastard that Cas had managed to clock in the jaw. He didn't have very good leverage, because he was still being restrained by the other, so his attempt to stab the demon wasn't all that successful. He managed to take a nice slice out of his chest though, which must have hurt like a fucker.

When the chanting started up again, the other demon doing her best to hold Cas down and having a little bit of fun with her nails and fists while she did it, the words were sibilant and hard to understand. Heh. Spellwork sounded funny when the one doing the casting was missing a few teeth. Cas fucking _rocked_.

"Help Cas," Sam choked out, and Dean felt like an idiot, because just standing here watching him be awesome was great, but yeah. He was in some serious trouble, and this would all turn out really badly if Dean just stood there drooling over him kicking ass and getting his ass kicked. Which was actually a little bit hot, even if he'd never _ever_ admit that out loud, because Cas looked _good_ when he was bleeding a little, breathing hard, with his face contorted in determined concentration.

But Sam's words were enough to force him into action, to make the situation real. Because he could lose Cas here. He could actually lose him. If Cas got sent to heaven, he might never come back, and Dean was not ready to lose him. He didn't think he'd ever be, but especially not at this point. Cas meant almost as much to him as Sam did, which was new, and scary. He hadn't let himself care this fucking much about someone outside his family, in… ever.

He'd loved before. Bobby, Jo, Ellen… Cassie. But this wasn't quite like any of those relationships. This was something different, unique, and he honestly couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was that he felt, he just knew that he _needed_ Cas, and without him, Dean wasn't sure that he'd be able to find it in him to keep fighting. Just like Sam.

Only… gross. Actually, nothing like Sam when he thought about some of the other things he might need Cas for. Like kissing.

"Dean," Sam prompted, and Dean nodded, looked at his brother, because yeah, it was time to get his ass in gear. He was scared though. Terrified, but not for himself. If he tried to help and he failed, it would be his fault, whatever happened to Cas. And there was no way he could live with it. So he swallowed, nodded again, and promised himself he wouldn't fail, even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest so hard he thought it might actually burst out.

"Sure you're okay?" he asked Sam once more.

Sam sighed in frustration and did his very best rendition of his bitch face, even through the pain, and Dean couldn't help but turn up the corner of his mouth in an almost grin. "Go."

"Yeah," Dean breathed out, but Sam probably didn't hear him, since he was already halfway across the clearing, heading straight for Cas, not even pausing when he got close enough to take a swing at the girl holding him against the wall. He just pulled his arm back even as he walked, and let loose as soon as he was in range, hand ready to connect to the back of her skull with crack.

The stupid bitch must have seen him coming, or sensed him or something, because she half spun around, snarling at him, and caught his fist in her hand, squeezing hard until the bones started to crack under the pressure, and Dean cried out, knees buckling as he started to go down.

His wrist was busted to hell, hand no doubt cracked, a finger or two probably broken, and there were tears in Dean's eyes, that were leaking from the corners and trailing down his cheeks. He tried his damnedest not to cry out, because he didn't want to give the bitch the satisfaction. He wasn't going to be able to hold a pen for a while, let alone a gun or a knife or any kind of weapon, but that was okay.

Because apparently the distraction was enough for Cas to get his arm free, and Dean had just enough time to thank an absent God that these demons were stupid enough not to have taken the knife away from Cas when they had the chance, before his hand was let go, and his vision blacked out.

He couldn't have been out for long, maybe a second or two. When he opened his eyes again, from his slumped position on the floor, sitting on his heals and hunched over, good hand on the ground to break his fall, he saw Cas, deadly and beautiful, moves efficient and more practiced that he really wanted to think about, pierce the knife into the girl's heart up to the hilt. His eyes narrowed at her as she started to spark, to shake, and then his face twisted in the closest thing to hate Dean had ever seen on Cas, and he twisted the knife, angling his wrist just so, before pulling it out.

The body fell to the ground in a lump, dead before it hit the floor.

Dean blinked up at Cas, saw the angel fighting for control over his own weakened body, bleeding from his nose and mouth, bruises already starting to form over the previously flawless skin of his cheek. Cas looked back at him for a split second, before he lunged at the remaining demon.

That guy wasn't quite so easy to take down. He managed to block Cas' first blow, and used the fact that Cas's balance was thrown during the attempt punch Cas in the chest and sent him back a step. Dean summoned every available ounce of strength in him, and stood. With no small effort he managed to get behind the demon, after he'd dealt Cas one hell of a backhand, and was making a move for the knife, fingers digging into Cas' wrist to try to pry it free.

Dean bore down against the pain that flared through his hand and up his arm, and wrapped his arms around the demon, pulling the bastard's own arms in close to his body, and held on, tight. He wasn't going to last long, he knew that. He was too badly hurt, and the demon was strong, but it was enough time for Cas to see what he'd done, and to take advantage of it.

More than enough time, because Cas was just that freakin' awesome.

Dean's hand throbbed, but he barely felt it, all his concentration spent watching Cas step forward and plunge the knife straight into the demon's gut. It was cold, calculated, and Dean was caught in a mix of emotions.

Relief that Cas was okay, first among them.

Cas was okay, the demons were dead, and Dean could breath again.

There was also a little bit of misplaced fear, because Cas looked fucking _scary_ when he got like this, and the relief and fear sort of mixed together inside him to create a feeling of irrepressible lust that he hadn't asked for.

Cas was… perfect. Fucking perfect, and _alive_, and looking mean and in control and tight with coiled tension, staring at Dean as Dean dropped the dead demon to the ground and stepped over him, moving by rote, not even thinking.

"Cas," he breathed, and lifted his uninjured had to cup Cas' shoulder, squeezing, more to reassure himself that Cas was alright than to let Cas know he was there. There had been very few times in Dean's existence that he'd felt quite so much relief.

Cas lowered his gaze, eyes flashing to Dean's injured hand, and Dean stayed focused on Cas' face as Cas licked his lips, and hesitantly reached his hand out. Cas' fingers ghosted over the back of his hand, and even that soft touch was painful. He sucked in a sharp breath, and Cas pulled his hand back quickly.

"You're hurt," he said, his voice rough from the fight and Dean could hear the emotional pain that Dean's injury obviously caused him. And that was… awesome. Seeing the concern on Cas' face, the caring about his welfare, was nothing new. He knew Cas cared about him, he wasn't an idiot, but this looked… different. It looked more, maybe. Emotions he thought maybe he'd seen once or twice before, but they'd never stayed on his face long enough for Dean to be certain.

"We should…" Cas said, glancing again at Dean's wrist, but whatever he was about to say, some bullshit about a hospital or whatever, was cut off by Dean pressing in closer, his lips closing quickly and forcefully over Cas' in their second ever kiss.

Only this was less of a kiss and more like a punishment, rough and insistent, letting out all his fear and anger at the thought that he could have lost Cas tonight. This was him trying to hold on, trying to let Cas know that he needed him, and that he was a stupid jackass for almost getting his ass sent back to heaven.

It wasn't his fault, Dean knew that, but he was too freaked out to care. Dean was so carried away that he didn't even notice that Cas wasn't kissing him back, _again_, until he tasted blood in his mouth.

Shit.

Dean really needed to get his fucked up shit under control.

Lots of sex, that was what he needed. With lots of pretty girls. _Girls_. Who he could forget about the next day, and go back to normal, and things would make sense.

Except they never ever would. Not after this. Because he was pretty rehearsed in denial, but he wasn't an idiot, and there was something about Cas that… He wanted him. End of story, and no use trying to say different. In that moment, and in the most intense way imaginable, he wanted Cas.

It was still fucked up, he still didn't know what to do with it, but there it was. Out in the open for him to poke at and tear apart, for Cas to see, and since his brother was currently sitting on the ground about twenty feet away, for Sam to see.

That thought made him feel overly exposed, and he pulled back from Cas, not that the angel would have noticed, since he still hadn't kissed him back, and that just made Dean feel like even more of a fool.

He mumbled a harsh, "Be careful," at him, low and scratchy, his voice heavy with fear and relief. "You almost got yourself… Just, be careful."

He turned, and stalked across the floor to the exit door, ignoring Cas' hand grasping at his coat, and then Sam's hoarse shout of "Dean."

There was plenty of time for him to look like an idiot later. He was trying to save a little face just now, for all the good it would do him. Trying to play it as cool as he possibly could under the circumstances, but he knew he just looked like he was throwing a tantrum. Well, fuck it. He felt like a moron. He was allowed.

***

Castiel wasn't quite sure what he'd done.

Dean's kiss had caught him by surprise, without a doubt, and he had probably not responded in the most appropriate way, essentially not responding at all. He had been stunned, the force and power behind the kiss unexpected, and after Castiel's surprise had worn off, he had simply not known how to respond. Hadn't known what Dean wanted from him, because the kiss was unlike any of his others, Dean's lips smashing against his own brutally, barely even moving. He just held him there, flush against him, and his teeth slipped through his lips and broke through the skin of Castiel's own, and Castiel had thought, that perhaps, Dean had not been _looking_ for a response. That he simply wanted Castiel to accept what he was doing.

The kiss, and the pressure of Dean's body against his had not left much room for manoeuvring, after all. He'd hoped that by letting Dean take what he wanted, Dean would see that he returned his feelings.

And that was a significant understatement. Castiel _more_ than returned Dean's feelings. He just couldn't seem to figure out how to let him know. And it shouldn't be difficult. How hard was it to say 'Dean, I will do anything for you. I will give myself to you, in all ways, if that's what you want, because I'm in love with you. In a very human way.'?

Up until recently, he'd never even considered the physicality of this body, the pleasures and pains it could know, the potential it had to express the emotions he felt. And these feelings were so alien to him, he wasn't certain he was even naming them properly.

It was… scary. Interesting how the one and only thing in all of God's creation that could truly terrify Castiel, was Dean Winchester.

He ached when Dean pulled away, and he and swallowed down a large lump of rejection when Dean seemed to decide he wasn't a good enough kisser. He couldn't really blame Dean, when he shook off Castiel's hand from where it had landed on his arm, fingers grabbing at the leather of his jacket, and stalked away, leaving him alone, and hurt.

He sighed, and slowly followed after Dean.

He walked past Sam on his way out of the warehouse, and stopped, looked at the young man as he tried to pull himself up from the ground, slipping as he overstretched, aggravating his injuries. Castiel cocked his head and reached out a hand without a word, and Sam smiled lopsidedly, the expression turning into a wince as Castiel pulled, and helped Sam to his feet.

Castiel turned and started for the exit once again, showing Sam his back when he opened his mouth to speak. Castiel didn't know what Sam was going to say, and he didn't want to. Some things should not be discussed, he thought. And then scowled, because he was starting to sound like Dean.

After a few paces, he heard and felt Sam fall into step beside him, but thankfully he said nothing, until they were outside, where they saw Dean standing next to his car, leaning his back against it, arm held into his body while his uninjured hand clenched his keys tightly. He looked unhappy, tense and frustrated, and Castiel knew it was his fault.

Sam placed a hand on his forearm, fingers curling softly around the worn beige of his coat. Castiel glanced down at the touch, but didn't look at Sam's face, as Sam spoke, voice soft with understanding and comfort.

"He'll come around," was all Sam said, and then he was gone, halfway across the parking lot, and towards the car.

"Well?" Dean called out to him a moment later, when he was still standing just outside the warehouse door. "What are you waitin' for? You're driving."

It made sense, since Castiel was the least injured of the three, but he still felt a strange warmth at Dean willingly letting him drive his car. He nodded and walked, catching the keys Dean threw at him when he was close enough, and got into the driver's seat.

He only hoped that driving wouldn't prove very difficult.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

***

It took Dean a few days, but eventually he managed to get over his embarrassment enough to realise that he was being kind of a baby about everything.

Sure, he'd made a huge-ass fool of himself. He'd kissed Cas, not just once, but twice, and the second time he'd kissed him like he fucking meant it. It wasn't just some little drunken peck that could be written off in the name of New Year's tradition. And sure, Cas hadn't kissed him back either time, had just stood there looking at him like he was some kind of puzzle.

But hell, maybe he was. God knew Dean was confused about this whole thing, so it made sense that Cas was maybe a little freaked out as well. It wasn't exactly like Dean had given him a lot of warning before he went and stuck his tongue down his throat. And Cas hadn't hit him or anything, hadn't pushed him away, or spit out his tongue or told Dean to take a hike.

It was possible that if Dean went a little slower, actually gave Cas a chance to reciprocate before he lashed out, and stormed away feeling stupid, that it would go a little better. Maybe Cas would actually want to kiss him back. It wasn't like he had much to lose at this point, and it had to be worth a shot. Especially since this batshit crazy fucking urge, the fluttering in his belly and the tingle up his spine whenever Cas was close, was just not going away.

So, Dean was going to do it again. Because he was twitchy, and on edge, and his lips fucking _itched_ with restless want, and he needed to sort this shit the fuck out, or he was going to go insane. And if Cas did tell him to fuck off, well, at least he'd know, and he could start to get his head screwed on straight again.

Sam was out, flirting with the local coroner to try to get them some information about the latest string of deaths they were investigating, leaving Dean and Cas sitting around a dark purple motel room in Boise, awkwardly watching television from the foot of Dean's bed, while Dean drank terrible coffee and worked himself up to near frantic over the fact that he was going to _kiss Cas_.

Like, full-on planned out, premeditated kissing, about to happen here. Which was weird, because first of all, Cas was a dude, and second, he was _Cas_. This was seriously new shit for Dean, and he still honestly didn't even know what it meant, besides the fact that he just wanted to do it.

It felt good the last time, being close to Cas felt good, touching him felt good, and Dean wanted to feel good like that again.

If only he could get his heart to slow down, and his palms to stop sweating every time he thought he might be about to go through with it. Cas looked at him oddly a few times, as he shifted closer to him on the edge of the bed, then away again, making pathetic little sounds as he pretended to clear his throat, and tried to act like he hadn't been staring.

Cas probably thought he was retarded or something. Fuckin' great. Real smooth.

Now if Dean could just stop being such a girl, and stick his tongue in the hot guy's mouth already, that'd be real swell.

He took a deep breath and leaned over, away from Cas, and put his half-full cup down on the floor next to the bed. "Fuck it," he mumbled under his breath as he sat back up, and turned to face Cas. He paused briefly and licked his lips, almost smiling at the look of slight confusion on Cas' face as he studied the television and tried to understand what exactly was so entertaining about a bunch of high school boys trying to take down a sleazy strip club owner.

Apparently it was entertaining enough though, because Cas didn't even seem to notice how close Dean was this time until Dean's hand closed down over Cas' thigh, warm fingers curving around cotton-covered flesh, and only shaking a little.

Cas blinked, and turned his head, looked down at Dean's hand for a second and then up to Dean's face. His look was indecipherable, as usual, but Dean thought he might have seen a flicker of something, understanding, desire, _something_, but it was gone too fast to be sure. It actually looked like Cas was trying to control his expression this time though, instead of just looking unreadable by default, so maybe that was something.

Maybe all this _was_ getting to him, and he was just as confused as Dean was. Only one way to find out, Dean thought, and he leaned in slowly, so that Cas saw it coming, and had time to stop him if he didn't want this, and kissed him.

It was soft, and easy. Dean didn't push, not like the last time, and for a solid five seconds, they were still, Dean's mouth slotted over Cas', while Dean held his breath. Again, Cas didn't respond at first, not when Dean parted his lips slightly, gently easing Cas' mouth open, and taking his lower lip between his own, biting down gently and then kissing the soft flesh.

Dean sighed, breathed out into Cas' mouth and closed his eyes, body shaking slightly with nerves as he tried again. He was well aware he was bordering on pathetic here, but _shit_. Cas felt fucking amazing. His lips, chapped and cracked and so rough-looking that the softness came as such a surprise, and his jaw, scratchy with stubble against Dean's own. The solid muscle of his leg under Dean's hand, and he was so fucking warm that Dean wanted to wrap his arms around him, bury his face in Cas' neck, tangle himself up in him and sleep for a week.

He got a little weak in the knees just thinking about how amazing this was and much more fuckin' amazing it would feel if Cas actually kissed him back. He _needed_ for Cas to kiss him back. He was so fucking screwed.

He brought his free hand up to cup the side of Cas' face, and the angel sucked in a shaky breath, his eyelids fluttering shut, and Dean's heart lurched. That was a good sign, right? God, Dean hoped so. He tilted his chin down again, using his hand to guide Cas closer, and this time, as soon as their lips touched, Dean's tongue came out to slide across Cas' closed mouth, the soft pink tip sneaking along the crevice and pushing inside just slightly.

Cas opened his mouth all on his own this time, a gesture that Dean took as encouragement, and the gentle sweeping motions of his tongue because broader, more pronounced, until Castiel had opened wide enough, let him in all the way, and had even started to move his own tongue in the tiniest of movements.

It was… odd. The way Cas kissed (if that was what he was even doing, Dean still wasn't exactly sure), wasn't hesitant, or timid. Not really. It _was_ small though, like he wasn't quite sure what his lips and tongue were capable of, aside from talking and eating. Like every move he made, every tiny swirl of his tongue around Dean's, every press of his lips or knick of his teeth that sent bolts of lust straight to Dean's cock, was some kind of experiment. Like he was learning, associating actions with sensations, cataloguing reactions, both his own and Dean's.

It wasn't exactly a turn-on, Cas looking at this like it was some kind of lesson, taking notes inside his head. But of course, he would. For normal people, the first time they make out with someone is usually a little scary, in an exciting kind of way. They don't know what to expect, but they take it all in in a rush, a frenzy of physical and emotion sensations. At least, that was what Dean was like, his first time.

It shouldn't have surprised him at all that Cas was a little more methodical about it.

All in all, it could have been going worse, and despite the fact that Dean was damn near on fire in every place that he and Cas touched, and whole lot of other places as well, it was sort of unsettling. Dean was feeling a little like he was being put under a microscope, and based on Cas' almost non-existent reactions, he could have just as easily been washing dishes as making out with Dean.

Dean pulled back just slightly, Cas' lips following his own briefly as he broke off the kiss. He pulled in a steadying breath and looked at Cas, watching his face for any signs of pleasure, or disgust, kind of like he was waiting to be graded or something, which was fucking ridiculous. And Cas just fucking stared at him, making Dean feel all kinds of stupid, and he just wished that Cas would _say_ something already. This was three fucking times now that Dean had kissed him, and some sort of acknowledgment that Cas had even noticed might be nice.

It wasn't like he wanted Cas to strip naked and beg Dean to fuck him or anything. Shit, Dean probably would have run from the room, screaming if he did, because that would just be wrong. Cas didn't seem like the stripping and begging type, not at this point in the relationship, anyway. Not that there even _was_ a relationship, just… Whatever.

And also Dean wasn't even sure he was ready to do any kind of fucking just yet. And again, yes he was actually turning into a woman over this, but getting turned on by a guy was seriously new territory, and as of right now, the kissing was about as much as he could handle. If that kept making Dean fucking _tingle_ the way it had been, and if Cas would fucking _say anything_ to him about it, then they could move on, and eventually get to part where Dean bent him over and made him scream.

Or… shit, for all Dean knew, Cas might want to be the one bending Dean over if it ever came to that. And yeah. _So_ not ready for that. For now, he'd just stick to the kissing. Huh. Well, that answered the question of whether or not he really wanted this… thing, this… whatever, with Cas to actually be something.

And at least Cas had sort of kissed him back this time, which was awesome, but _Christ_. Dean had made the first move every damn time now, so would it kill Cas to give him _something_ here? Maybe show a little enthusiasm, or even just a couple of words. Hell even one. 'Yes' would work just fine.

What would be fucking super, was if Cas would just fucking open his mouth, and admit he wanted the same damn thing Dean did, whatever that was. If he could just say 'I like you too' or something like that, though possibly less lame and more Cas-like, then Dean could flash him that thousand watt smile, maybe throw in an overconfident wink for good measure, and get back to watching _Porky's_ on cable, until the next time Dean felt the overwhelming desire to get Cas in a lip lock.

It would still be awkward as hell, and Dean would still feel a little weird about the whole thing, but at least he would know that he wasn't alone in this.

But, Cas said nothing. He let his eyes drop though, so at least he wasn't staring at Dean anymore, looked down at the bed, the space between them were Dean's hand was placed, fingers nervously twitching on the mauve floral-patterned bedspread. Dean forced them still.

His brain hurt, and he felt kind of like he'd been kicked in the chest. Again. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes, sat back putting enough space between them to be socially acceptable for two guys hanging out, watching a movie, and cleared his throat, desperately trying to think of something to say to make this situation less uncomfortable.

There really wasn't anything, short of pointing behind Cas, saying 'Hey look! A unicorn!', and making a run for it. So he decided to try to make his getaway a little more casual. He stood, maybe a little too fast, because the jiggle of the bed made Cas lose his balance a little, and he had to adjust his posture to stop from falling over. Huh. Dean hadn't noticed until right then that Cas was still leaning a little in Dean's direction.

He didn't mention it though, because it might not have been what he thought, and he was tired of looking like a dumb-ass. He backed up, moving toward the door, racking his brain for some kind of excuse to get out of there, something that would at least give him something to say, so he could get out the door, and get a minute to himself, to regroup and not have to stare at Cas staring at him like that. And thank God for small favours, he spotted the ice bucket on the table by the door and snagged it, stopping with his hand on the door handle.

He turned around, but didn't make eye contact with Cas, just kind of waved the bucket around, and looked at the wall. "I'm gonna…" he stared, and pushed the door open, lifting the bucket up a little higher, to illustrate. "Ice," he finished lamely, and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

He was gone a long time, even though the ice machine was just around the corner, and when he got back to the room, over half an hour later, Cas was gone. And Dean didn't even have any ice.

***

Dean making up an unconvincing excuse, and leaving the room for long enough for Castiel to realise that he wasn't planning on coming back, was not the reaction he had hoped for. It was almost as bad as growling at him for nearly getting hurt, and walking off, ignoring Castiel's blatant desire for him to stay.

Again, he wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong. Dean had kissed him, and Castiel had let him. Dean had wanted, had taken, and Castiel had given. He always would. Would give everything to Dean, and he was finding more and more that he would not only do it for Dean's benefit, but because he wanted it for himself.

He had even managed a response this time, albeit a small one, but he had hoped it would be sufficient to make Dean understand that he was willing.

This was new for him, this overwhelming stir of emotion, and the desire to express those emotions physically. Not unwanted, but untested, and even though he understood the logistics of sexual expression, he found it was very different when it was _him_ trying to do the expressing. It took a great deal of control and concentration to sort things out, his reactions and Dean's, and he was trying.

Perhaps too hard. It might be better, he thought, for him to just act and react, without putting so much thought into it. That seemed to be what Dean did. Next time, if he was lucky enough for there to be a next time, it would be different. It had to be, because he couldn't lose Dean in this way.

Dean's touch inspired such feeling in him, things he couldn't identify, not from personal experience, and things he desperately wanted to understand. Dean had seemed to want him, and Castiel had let him take.

It was also possible that Dean was confused. That he himself was having a hard time making up his mind about how he'd like things to be between them. Thought he wanted one thing, until he was faced with it, and then experienced doubt, causing him to pull back.

Maybe Dean needed space. Time to think things through, and decide what he truly wanted. Castiel had work of his own to attend anyway, and perhaps a few days apart would give them both some perspective.

***

Cas was gone for over a week and a half, and Dean tried not to think about him too much. He failed miserably of course, but he'd given it a shot.

It didn't help that he and Sam had had to take almost a week off after a run-in with some vampires, due to Sam's bruised ribs, and Dean's broken hand. They'd gone into that one still hurt from the warehouse a few days before, and it had almost gotten them both killed. They seemed to be getting their asses kicked even more than usual these days, but he supposed that was to be expected during the apocalypse.

So Dean had kind of a lot of downtime. To think.

And in between directionless research on Lucifer, and the apocalypse in general, using the internet (which, as often as not, turned out to _not_ be the most reliable of sources), eating cold pizza, and arguing with Sam over the remote, and bathroom time, he thought about Cas.

About the kiss, and how it'd made him feel. About how Cas responded to him, so close to acting like he was actually enjoying himself, but not close enough. How he took off afterward without a word, even though Dean took off first, and about how he hoped to hell that Cas wasn't avoiding him, even if he didn't think he was ready to see him just yet.

The fact that he'd been pretty much stuck to Sam's side, even more than normal, for six freakin' days, meant he was kind of cranky. And the fact that he hadn't even had the chance to beat off in all that time, because of his wrist, meant he was on edge. He tried once, on the fourth day, to jerk off in the shower, but he was just _so_ not a lefty, and it ended up taking so long that Sam had barged in on him, bitching that he was using up all the hot water.

So not only was he totally messed up over what had happened with Cas, all that fucked up, unfulfilled sexual chemistry just… out there, with no resolution, but he was also dealing with a load of pent up sexual desire that he had no outlet for. And yes, he'd taken his head out of his ass far enough to admit that Cas was the reason that he was feeling a little more need for release than he normally would be.

After a week, they were feeling well enough to go on another hunt, and they chased a goblin to Reno.

The case was really pretty great. Simple, fun even, like old times, and they were efficient. Finished up in a day, and they spent the evening getting drunk at a tacky bar with flashing lights out front, and peanut shells all over the floor.

Dean hit on a cheap looking redhead, but it was mostly just out of habit. It didn't go very far, and when she offered to take him home, he told her 'thanks, but no thanks', and dragged Sam back to their room. And it fucking pissed him off. Cas obviously wasn't interested, not in the kissing and the touching, anyway, so there wasn't any reason Dean could think of for him not to do that with someone who actually wanted him.

Cas might be happy to keep up their epic non-sexual love affair for the foreseeable future, but Dean just couldn't work like that. He needed physical contact. And not just for sex, either, though sex was pretty damned awesome. He also needed it to feel and show love.

Dean wasn't much for the chit chat, and the talking about his feelings shit. Not that Cas seemed to be either, thank God. Hell, in the past twenty years, he'd only ever said the word 'love' to Sam once, and that wasn't even in the sentence 'I love you'. He showed it in other ways though, touches, playful slaps on arms, punches in the face, and sometimes, like when one of them was dying or something, hugs.

Bottom line, Dean was a physical guy, and if he liked someone, he wanted to be able to show it. He knew Cas had feelings for him, but if he couldn't actually let himself touch Dean, and like it, what could Dean do?

Apparently _not_ randomly hook up with hot girls. He wished he could, but he just wasn't feeling it. This whole emotional connection bullshit _sucked_.

***

"He's been gone a while," Sam said, later that night when they both in their beds and the lights were out, heads swimming from too much tequila.

Dean didn't even pretend he didn't know exactly what Sam was talking about.

"Yeah. I think… I think that's probably a good thing."

"You're not acting like you think it's a good thing. You've been more of a pain in the ass than usual lately. Grumpy. You miss him."

"Still good that he's been away," Dean insisted, and what really got Sam's attention was the fact that Dean didn't try to blow him off, to say that Sam was crazy, or deny that did miss Castiel. Which meant something was up. More up than the usual dancing around each other, and stupidly unspoken affection.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his voice sleepy, and a little shaky with concern. This resigned, complacent Dean without even the enthusiasm to take home a girl that looked like she probably would have let Dean anything he wanted to her, and then some, made him worry.

For Dean _and_ for Cas, because he loved Dean, he really did, but it was probably him that had screwed this up.

Dean sighed, and rolled over, turning his back to Sam, and he thought Dean wasn't going to answer. It took almost a minute, but eventually he said, quiet and slightly hitching, "Just… Not now, okay Sammy?"

And that just… _Shit_. Sam was usually the brother that got all maudlin and emotional when he was drunk. Not that Dean was quite _that_ bad, but he really sounded like he was hurting over whatever the hell he didn't want to talk about.

Maybe it had been a mistake for Sam to stick his nose into this thing between Cas and Dean in the first place. Maybe it would have been better if he'd just left them alone, and they'd still be happily oblivious, and at least Dean would be getting laid, and not pouting into his pillow, thinking about why Cas hadn't been around in over a week.

Sam still probably hadn't learnt his lesson, though. He wouldn't push, but if he saw a chance to help them out, he was going to take it.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

***

After eleven days, Cas finally called Sam's cell phone, with news of a job that Dean wasn't really keen on taking. And it wasn't because he was pissed off that Cas had been gone for so long, or because he still felt like a bit of a jackass over everything, or because Cas kept on fucking calling Sam when Dean's cell worked just fine. It really wasn't.

It was because it was another dead end in Cas' God search, a meeting he'd set up with one of his brothers. To talk. Yeah, right. Dean figured that was code for kick Cas' ass, and Dean really wasn't in the mood to watch that. What he was in the mood for even less, was the look of disappointment, the dejection, that would flash across Cas' face for just a second, before he managed to hide it away behind blankness, when he failed.

But Cas wasn't actually calling because he wanted their help. He just wanted to let them know what he'd done, just in case. It sounded ominous even through Sam's lips as he relayed the message, and Dean snatched the phone from Sam, tried to talk Cas out of it.

Cas wouldn't listen, and Dean called him an idiot for wanting to do this on his own, and demanded he take him and Sam with him as back-up. There were words exchanged. Cas said something about Dean being 'wilful and insolent', and Dean had replied with 'takes one to know one'. Which was better than the ever popular 'your face', but not by much.

It took a heavy sigh from Dean, and a 'Please, Cas don't do this. Not by yourself,' in a near pleading half-whisper that cracked on the first and last word, for Cas to relent, and give Dean a time and place.

And four hours later the three of them were standing in front of Dean's car under a freeway off ramp, waiting for their date.

***

It turned out, Dean was right.

It had been a set-up, but not on the scale that Dean had been worried about. It wasn't Zachariah, or Raphael, or the rest of the archangels that showed up, which made sense, because Sam figured Cas was right that they honestly didn't want to kill him. If they did, he'd be dead by now. They still weren't sure it wasn't God who'd brought Cas back, and they were probably a little scared to fuck with him too much at this point.

But those jerks weren't the only ones holding grudges against Castiel.

***

"What the _hell_ was that?!" Dean demanded, the words coming out in a rough growl that only ended up emphasising his emotion instead of hiding it. They were the first words he'd spoken to Castiel since they'd talked on the phone earlier, and they were accompanied by a rough shove back and downward on Castiel's shoulders, causing him to stumble back, and land on his ass.

Thankfully, he landed on one of the beds.

He hissed in a breath through clenched teeth, and his face contorted in pain, probably the most pain Sam or even Dean had ever seen Castiel in, and his hand shot to his stomach, holding his bloody shirt tight against his gaping wound.

"Demons, Dean," Castiel growled, obviously in no mood for Dean's macho bullshit. His head was still lowered, but he looked up at Dean with hard eyes, even has his mouth twisted with pain. "I would think you'd be familiar with them by now."

"Fucking hilarious, Cas," Dean said, all sarcasm and anger, but it was obvious to all three of them that he was blustering to hide the fact that he was scared shitless. As far as they knew, Cas still couldn't die, but he was having a harder and harder time these days healing even himself. He could still do it, but it took longer, his pain lasted, and he bled. He wasn't becoming human, Sam didn't think, but he was a hell of a lot weaker than he had been, in a lot of ways.

Dean turned and went for his bag, sitting on the floor by the door, where he'd tossed it earlier, and wrenched the zipper open with too much force, tearing the stitching at the end. He grumbled something to himself that Sam didn't catch, and rooted around, coming up with his first aid kit, and walked back over to Cas, kneeling down in front of him.

"What I meant," he said sharply, and reached up to roughly tug at Castiel's coat, yanking it over his shoulders and down his arms, then pulled on his tie, wrenching it around and tossing it over his shoulder so that it was out of the way, and he could open up the buttons on Cas' shirt. "Was who the fuck was the guy that set us up, and what the hell is his problem?"

The two shirt buttons nearst Cas' injury were covered in blood, and Sam could see Dean's fingers slip slightly as he worked to open them, causing Cas to wince, and shut his eyes tightly.

"Shit, Cas," Dean breathed out when he got the shirt open, and Sam sucked in a shocked breath at the sight. The cut was deep. Really fucking deep. If it had been Dean or Sam who'd gotten stabbed, they'd be dead, no question. Sam was actually surprised that Cas wasn't bleeding even more than he was.

"He was my brother," Cas said, and his eyes opened to stare at a random patch on the floor. Sam felt bad for him. Cas had killed brothers before, but he didn't think it was ever easy. "He left our order long ago, and he and I… did not part on good terms. We argued when he chose to leave. He felt I betrayed him, and he… had been holding a grudge."

"Betrayed him?" Dean asked, and cleaned Cas' wound with a clean cloth, and an antiseptic wipe. "How?"

"It's not important."

"No, clearly. We just got our fucking asses kicked, you nearly got _killed_ for fuck's sake," Dean grumbled, and picked up the spool of thread, carefully sliding the end through the eye of his needle. "And it's all because… what? You stole your brother's girlfriend or something, like a hundred years ago? Dammit, Cas, we don't have time for that kind of bullshit. Maybe you haven't noticed, but we're in the Goddamn fight of our lives here."

Cas narrowed his eyes and looked straight at Dean, his fierce anger, and tension overriding his pain for the moment. "I've noticed, Dean. Believe me. I didn't ask for this to happen."

"No, but you knew… You knew when you agreed to meet him that he hated you. You should have expected that he'd be playing you, Cas. Using the fact you were looking for your father, to get to you." Dean still sounded mad, but his genuine concern was starting to leak out. "You should have fucking told us."

Dean had a point. If Sam had known going into this, that the one Cas had set up the meeting with had been a rebel angel with a serious hate on for Cas, he would have backed Dean up when he had first said this was a stupid idea. Cas was just so damned trusting, so hopeful, so desperate to find his father, that he was willing to entertain even the slightest possibility of success.

In his defence though, the angel didn't seem all that surprised when his brother told him nothing, and a half dozen demons appeared out of nowhere. He'd mumbled under his breath, "It was worth a shot", and leapt into the fray, killing three of the demons quickly and easily, as he'd made his way to the other angel, leaving Sam and Dean to deal with the rest, while the angels clashed.

Cas had won the fight, barely, and Dean and Sam had taken a few knocks wasting the rest of the demons, but not before one of them, a particularly strong son of a bitch, had gotten to Cas, attacking him from behind, while he was busy fighting his brother.

Dean stuck the needle into Cas' skin, pulling the thread though, and stitching up his wound. He was being much more gentle in his ministrations than his words, his tone, would suggest, and he refused to meet Cas' eyes, not even for a second.

In fact, from the second Cas had shown up next to their car on the freeway, Dean had gone out of his way to not have to look at him, talk to him, interact with him in any way. And that… that was why Castiel was as hurt as he was, and Dean knew it. Which, in turn, was why Dean was so pissed off right now. He'd almost lost Cas, and it would have been his fault.

Dean had been so busy trying to avoid eye contact that he'd gotten sloppy. Hadn't been in the right place at the right time, and one of the demons had managed to bury a funky looking knife, that had probably been some kind of magical, up to the hilt in Cas' stomach.

Sam had seen fear and hate and rage flash over Dean's face, and it was really kind of impressive, the surge of strength and violence that he'd shown, getting rid of that last demon with seeming ease, and standing at Cas' side, there for him if he needed it, as Cas killed another brother.

"Scared the fucking hell out of me," Dean admitted, all traces of anger suddenly gone from his voice with that one sentence, and his hands were starting to shake as he worked the needle through Cas' stomach.

Castiel closed his eyes, and it was clear that despite Dean's gentleness, he was hurting. He raised one of his hands, and cupped it over Dean's forearm, solid and reassuring, stilling Dean's nerves. "I'm sorry."

Dean let out a significant breath, because wow. Cas' had sounded _intense_, and it wasn't often that the angel apologised for anything. Not anything this important.

"I'll be fine," he continued, and he sounded sure, and soft now. Still a little angry, but mostly reassuring, like he was trying to comfort Dean. Like Dean was the hurt one here, the one that needed fixing up. In a very real way, it was true. "You needn't bother… sewing me up."

"I know that!" Dean snapped, back to angry again, and fuck. Sam wished Cas good luck if he was willing to tie himself down to the bipolar nutjob that was his brother. Sam had enough trouble dealing with him, and he could only imagine how bad it would be for someone in an intimate relationship with him.

Dean didn't stop working the needle though, and Cas flinched when he jabbed a bit too hard on one pass.

Sam understood though. He really did. Even if it was completely unnecessary, Dean needed to feel like he was doing something, like he was helping, even if he wasn't. Cas would heal on his own, sure, but right now, he was hurting and bleeding, and Dean needed to patch him up. That was what he always did for Sam, and if he could do it for Cas, he could feel better about… everything.

When he reached the end of the gash, and closed off the line of thread, he snipped it with the scissors, and put everything down. He put his hands on Cas' knees, fingers gripping in too hard to the flesh under cotton-poly blend, and he looked at his work, licked his lips, before he relaxed his hands.

He lifted one of them to Cas' front, hesitating slightly before placing it palm down over his belly button, pressing. He gentled his touch and shifted his hand, pulled his palm back and used his fingers, traced the jagged edge of the cut that would be gone long before morning, tips dipping in and out of the grooves and pulls created by the thread, and his breathing was almost hitched when he reached the end.

If it hadn't been obvious before, it sure as hell would have been now. Dean loved Castiel.

Sam had the decency to look away after that, only watching out of the corner of his eye, because this was clearly some kind of moment the two of them were having, and he waited until Dean had covered the gash in white cotton, and had pressed the edges in tape to seal it, before he turned back to them, Dean's hand still resting on top of the bandage, and cleared his throat.

They both jerked back, like they hadn't even realised Sam was in the room until just now, and Dean's hand fell as he stood, and shuffled his feet, before he moved away, took off his coat, and boots, leaving them by the door like he did every time.

"Cas," Sam offered, once Cas had begun to fasten his bloody shirt. "Why don't you stay here tonight? I mean, you're still hurt, and even if you don't need to sleep, you could probably use a break."

Dean's head swivelled around at that, his eyes wide on Sam, and clearly saying 'dude, what the fuck?!'. Sam shot back a 'yeah, what the fuck?' face of his own. What the hell was the problem with Sam asking Cas to stay with them? It wasn't like he'd never done it before.

And despite all the awkwardness between Dean and Cas earlier, it kind of looked like his brother _wanted_ to spend more time with the angel.

"That's very kind of you, Sam," Cas said, and looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, obviously reading the same thing on Dean's face that Sam had. "But I don't think…"

"Really, Cas," Sam assured him, smiling as he shrugged out of his jacket finally, and placed it on the kitchen table. "It's no big deal. You've done it before, and we should probably keep an eye on you, just until you heal up. Right Dean?"

Dean sighed, and rubbed a hand over his face, leaned against the table and stared at his toes. "Yeah, it's fine."

Cas studied Dean for a moment, probably not sure if he believed him or not, because the two of them seemed to be anything but 'fine'. Eventually though, he must have seen something, some subtle shift in Dean's posture, or change in his breathing, because he turned back to Sam and nodded. "Thank you," he told him, sounding endearingly sincere. "I'll just get cleaned up."

He stood and disappeared into the bathroom, and Sam remembered that not so long ago, Castiel didn't have to bother with human things, like washing his hands, and cleaning his clothes. It must be hard on him.

"Great," Dean muttered, when the door closed, and they heard the water running. "Now we're gonna have some creepy angel sitting there staring at us all night."

"Dean what the hell is wrong with you?" Sam asked him, face scrunched up in annoyance. "It's not some creepy angel, it's Cas. You _like_ Cas, remember? Besides, it's not like he has anywhere else to go, and he really could use a rest."

"I don't…" Dean started, just a little too vehemently, and loud, and then stopped, eyes darting toward the bathroom for a second, and lowered his voice. "I don't _like_ Cas!"

"Jesus, Dean, what are you, a twelve year old girl? I didn't mean it like that. And besides… yes you do." Dean's eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened, but Sam ignored him. "And you haven't even been able to look at him all night. You got sloppy trying to avoid him, for fuck's sake. So what gives? Finally ready to tell me what's going on between you two?"

Dean pushed up off the table and took a few tense steps across the room, breathing out heavily. "I don't even know, man," he started, and Sam kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"I kissed him," Dean said simply, like that was a good reason for them both to be acting so weird.

"Yeah, I saw."

"No, I mean… after that. The other week back in Boise, when you were out with that girl… I kissed him. And he…"

"He what?"

"He did nothing! It was like his fucking tongue disappeared, Sam!"

Sam thought that was probably an exaggeration. And also? Too much information. "Dude, relax."

"Sorry," Dean said, and to his credit, he actually sounded like he was. "Not your fault, I know. I just… I feel like an idiot. I keep making moves, and he keeps shooting me down, and I'm starting to regret ever listening to you in the first place."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You're the one that told me I was hot for him!"

Sam rolled his eyes, and huffed out a breath. "Well that's because you are. And you would be, whether I pointed it out or not. So don't blame me."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, his arms wide in front of him, gesturing ridiculously. "That's all I get? My fucking world is kinda upside down here, Sammy. I'm going through some shit I can't even sort out, and I keep getting rejected. By a _dude_. A little sympathy wouldn't suck."

Sam snickered, tilted his head down, and shook it back and forth. "You're an idiot, Dean."

"Awesome."

"I guarantee you, Castiel did not, in any way, reject you. This whole thing is new territory for both of you, so you can't treat it like any other hook up."

"Dude! Nobody is fucking hooking up!"

"Whatever. Just talk to him, Dean. Be honest. Tell him how you feel."

"Aren't you listening?" Dean asked, exasperated, and tossing his hands up. "I don't even _know_ how I feel!"

"Or maybe you're just too scared to admit it," Sam countered, and Dean glared. "Hey, I'm not saying you shouldn't be. It's some pretty scary shit, but you need to deal with it. You've been off all week, Dean, and if you don't get your head on straight again, you're gonna get hurt. Gonna get me and Cas hurt, too. Already did."

Dean scowled and turned his back on Sam, playing absently with the top drawer handle on the dresser. "Yeah, thanks Dr. Phil," he muttered, and stood up straight, turning to face the room again, hands at his sides, as Cas came out of the bathroom.

Sam looked pointedly at Dean, making sure to catch his eyes, and convey his meaning. They couldn't really talk about this anymore, not with Cas back in the room, but his brother and the angel needed to work some shit out, and Sam needed to give them the chance.

Dean snarled at Sam, and shook his head once, but Sam offered a fake smile, and then looked at Cas with a real one. "So…" he said. "I'm gonna… go to the store."

Cas looked puzzled, and Dean looked like he was ready to spit fire. "No," he said. "I don't think we need anything just now, Sam."

"No, no we do," Sam insisted, and tried to rack his brain for something, _anything_, that they could possibly need at eleven o'clock at night. "I uh…" And yeah, he had nothing. So, he just grinned, kind of awkward and dorky, in that way that made everybody love him, and tilted his head. "So… see ya!"

"Sam!" Dean snapped, but Sam ignored him, giving Cas a tight-lipped smile, and opened the door. "Sam, I swear to…" but that's all Sam heard, before he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

***

"Shit," Dean mumbled, and looked at the door, the fridge, the floor… anywhere to avoid looking at Cas. Mostly because Cas was topless, his bloodied shirt hanging limply from his hand, and fuck but Cas looked nice without a shirt. He wasn't built, not really, but he was lean, and well muscled, fucking _beautiful_, and if Dean looked at him for too long, he didn't think he should really be held responsible for his actions.

"Dean…" Cas started, but Dean cut him off with a hand, and went back to his bag, pulled out a clean t-shirt and tossed it to Cas, who caught it and put it on without a word. That helped, a little.

And now that Dean was finally able to actually look at Cas, they apparently mutually decided that a staring contest would be an awesome idea. It wasn't though. Dean felt all kinds of uncomfortable, and by the look on Cas' face, he did too. Still, neither wanted to lose, to look away first, because then they'd have to admit that there was a problem.

Naturally, Cas held out longer. Because he was cool like that. Dean coughed, and looked away, and said, "So, wonder what's on TV," and walked over to the couch, sitting down and waiting for Cas to join him, hesitant and unsure, before he picked up the remote and flicked on the television.

He flipped through the channels for a few seconds, settling on a show about the evolution of hamburgers, and when Cas didn't complain, he tossed the remote down on the table in front of them.

They didn't say anything, just sat in silence and watched the show, which Dean was thankful for. And he must have been more tired than he thought. Either that, or just sitting inches away from Cas on a crappy couch, watching ground beef get fried up and drizzled with ketchup was truly his happy place, because his eyelids were getting heavy, and his body was feeling more sated and relaxed than it had in a while, despite the tension of the day.

He fell asleep. Or he must have, because just after watching some chubby, stark blond guy taking a bite out a burger the size of his head, he was blinking sleep out of his eyes, and he was warm on one side.

He tilted his head, as much as he could considering it was pressed up against Cas' chest, and then he panicked, and pulled back, looking at Cas with slightly terrified eyes. Cas was looking down at him warmly, didn't seem to mind Dean using him as a pillow, thank God, and Dean let himself relax, because this? This wasn't rejection, and it felt fucking _good_.

It was warm and safe and soft and hard all at the same time, and Cas' arm was propped up behind him on the back of the couch, his fingers resting solidly on Dean's shoulder as Dean stared up at him. Cas stared back, let his eyelids shut halfway, and his gaze dropped to Dean's mouth, and when he licked his lips, Dean groaned.

Cas tilted his head, in invitation or possibly confusion, Dean wasn't sure, and his eyes moved back up to Dean's. Before Dean even realised what he was doing, he was already halfway to leaning forward, mouth very focused and very intent on Cas' lips.

He kissed him; he couldn't help it. He knew it was a stupid idea, because this had never gone well for him before, but it was like his lips were the negative to Cas' magnetic positive, and he was so comfortable, and perfect, and Dean just couldn't help it.

Dean pulled back after only a second, blinked and sat up straighter, looked into Cas' eyes and silently asked permission, was silently granted it, before he leaned back in, a better angle, more force, and kissed him again.

This time, Cas kissed back. Really kissed back. He wasn't actually all that good at it, but he was far from bad, and just the fact that he seemed to be into it, that he wanted it, that he not only took, but gave… it was everything.

Dean could have quite happily died, just having this.

Cas wasn't going overboard, his hands weren't touching Dean in the naughty places, just sliding down his arm, and resting on his knee, and he wasn't choking Dean with his tongue. It was… well, it was pretty much what you'd expect from a first kiss. And this wasn't Cas' first kiss. Hell it wasn't even his first kiss with _Dean_, but it was the first time he'd _really_ kissed back, and hadn't just let Dean do all the work.

Sam was right, there was something here. And they needed to work out what that was, for both their sakes. Probably for Sam's, too.

He swiped his tongue over Cas' lips, let Cas lick the roof of his mouth, and then pulled away, lips closing and puckering over Cas', and he rested his forehead against the angel's briefly, sighed, and sat up.

His face was almost pained as he reached a hand up to cup Cas' chin, and when he spoke, it came out jagged. "Cas…" he started, not exactly sure, now that he was faced with it, that he wanted to talk about this. He did want to know what Cas was thinking, though. What he was feeling. Wanted to know if he was really interested in going down this road, in finding out what all this crazy shit meant, or if he was only going along with it for Dean's benefit. So far, Cas hadn't said anything about how he felt, hadn't made any kind of move on Dean, and Dean needed to know, or he was going to lose it. So he took a deep breath, and got ready to ask.

But of course, because Dean had the best luck ever, and Sam's timing was unmatched, that was when the door opened, and Sam came in.

"Fuck," Dean hissed under his breath, ducked his head to hide his face, leaned forward just enough to rest his forehead against Cas' for a fraction of a second. He sighed, and stood up, looking at Sam helplessly, and then towards the beds.

"I'm going to bed," he said, to the room in general, and walked around the half wall and into the sleeping area. He kicked out of his jeans, stripped off his t-shirt, and slipped into his bed, keeping his back to Sam and Cas the whole time.

He pulled the blankets up around his neck, and closed his eyes tight, and took several deep breaths, because really, this wasn't the end of the world. Sam had wicked bad timing, but that didn't mean there wasn't still plenty of opportunity for Dean and Cas to work things out.

Still, he thought, and closed his eyes, not even bothering to try for sleep yet… he'd kind of hoped there might be a little more kissing.

"_Fuck_."

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

***

Cas stayed with them for three days. He didn't even disappear once, which was pretty much a record, especially considering they didn't really have any legitimate work. Or, nothing on the epic battle of Heaven and Hell, at any rate.

They were looking, sure, but they hadn't found anything more significant than a couple of ghosts, much too easy to deal with, and Dean had even felt a little dirty after, based on the sheer lack of effort it had taken. It was sort of disturbing, really. When Evil was out there being evil, it sucked, but when Evil was quiet, Dean got worried.

They'd hit the road after a day and a half, and landed in Colorado. Dead had never much cared one way or the other where they went, and he didn't now either, just as long as it was nowhere near Detroit.

They were all doing pretty good, no new injuries, all well rested, and fed, and Cas had healed up entirely by the morning after his fight with his wayward brother.

And Dean was still no closer to finding out what was going on between himself and Cas. They hadn't really had the chance to talk about it, not that Dean was eager to. He felt kind of weird about it, and Sam was always around, and Cas hadn't given any indication that he was interested one way or the other in talking things out. Or, perhaps more importantly, that he was interested in any more _making_ out.

Cas wasn't avoiding him anymore, which was good, and Dean was perfectly capable of looking at him now. It came in handy when they were trying to decide where to go for lunch, or which turns they should take on the network of highways through the country.

Their recent semi-make-out session hadn't solved everything, by any means, because things were still a little stiff between them, but it was much easier to be around each other than it had been.

And Cas had been… flirting, Dean thought was probably the best word. But he'd been doing it in such a Cas-like way, that Dean couldn't really be sure. He'd always stood too close, had no regard for boundaries, and tended to be all up in Dean's business like personal space was a foreign concept. So it wasn't Cas' usual over-closeness that had been causing Dean's suspicions.

It was more kind of the way that Cas actually brushed up against him now. Not overt, or sleazy. Not even teasing. Just… there. Just Cas' hand over his as they traded the laptop, or the keys, Cas' shoulder against Dean's when one of them moved past the other, Cas' foot resting a little too long against his when they accidentally met under the table over burgers.

And in the way he looked at Dean. Not his typical kind of intense, not like his typical blind devotion, or typical expectation of obedience. And damn, but Dean was kind of impressed that Cas could master those two seeming opposites, and wrap them up all in one neat little package.

But this was even more impressive than that. He looked… almost playful. Not that, because Dean didn't think Cas would bother with playful, but... close. His eyes held a sort of twinkle at times, and Dean could have sworn that Cas had even winked at him on occasion.

He looked at Dean like he knew something, but then the looks were gone before Dean had even really realised them.

And then there was the way he spoke.

Again, not really much different than normal, low, and gravel-rough, no nonsense and all consuming, but in the past couple of days, it seemed… Dean didn't even know. That was how fucking far gone he was, he didn't even know. Seemed like Cas was trying, maybe. Like it mattered to him that Dean was impressed. Like he was trying extra hard to come across as a badass, all hardcore sexy, even as every word out of his mouth was in some sort of agreement with Dean.

It was driving Dean crazy, but he couldn't really call him on it, because Cas hadn't actually done anything. Nothing that Dean could put his finger on and say 'That! What the fuck, Cas? What are you trying to _do_ to me?'.

The whole 'too cool for school' shit Cas was playing at, probably without even realising it, was getting kind of old. And besides, that was typically Dean's game, and he didn't really care for getting it shoved back in his face.

Dean wanted… Yeah, that was pretty much it. When it came to Cas, Dean wanted, and he still didn't know how exactly to define it, but the kissing, and the little touching there had been so far had been awesome. Dean wanted more of it. And he… well, he liked Cas. Liked having him around, and thought he was funny, even though he hardly ever tried to be. Liked the way his touches made his dick spring up, ready for action, the way his entire lower half warmed. And yes, if Dean was ever in a position to fill out a census form, he'd have to check the 'female, under 18' box, because sometimes, when he was with Cas, his heart actually fucking fluttered.

Not all the time, because he wasn't that far gone, but there were definite hitches. Little pulls, twinges, when Cas would sort of smile, or when he said his name, 'Dean', like it was a prayer. He was halfway to crazy, and most of the reason for that, was not fucking knowing how Cas felt about it all.

By this point, Dean could admit it, to himself, to Sam if he asked, even to Cas. He had feelings. Like, full-on, sexy, romantic feelings. Cas had been so up and down about it, making Dean feel like he was nuts at first, but then the last time, Cas had almost seemed to want it. And now, he was back to acting, sort of, like nothing had happened.

It was killing him. And he was fucking sick of it.

***

Castiel was terrible at this.

He was an angel, he was powerful and fearless, he could perform miracles, and make humans quake in his presence. He was too beautiful for this world, and he was loved, and he could accomplish the most difficult of tasks with barely a thought.

And yet he seemed to be entirely incapable of showing affection, at least in the way that Dean seemed to want it. He'd been trying, though his attempts were laughable at best. He'd tried to make himself available, to let Dean know, through his actions and the unwavering focus of his eyes, that should Dean wish it, Castiel would welcome a further foray into their limited sexual contact.

He knew that Dean was probably waiting for more, waiting for Castiel to be more decisive, more definite. For him to talk to Dean, or be the one to initiate intimacy, but Castiel simply didn't know how to go about it, without coming across like an incompetent, inexperienced fool.

He knew what he desired, but he didn't know how to properly express it to Dean, so instead he fumbled, shied away, willed Dean to understand, the same way he understood Dean's true feelings, though he hadn't yet stated them.

But Dean was much more wilfully blind than Castiel was. Didn't think himself deserving of love, and certainly not the type that Castiel offered. He'd reluctantly accepted the love of his brother, of Bobby, but both those men were obliged to love him, and it made accepting it easier. He probably thought Castiel loved him out of obligation as well, and at first, that had been true.

Now though, he loved Dean as an individual, as a man, and he loved him because of _who_ he was, not _what_ he was. Now he needed to show it, needed for Dean to see it, to _feel_ it. Needed Dean to know he was worth it.

It was odd for Castiel. This feeling of vulnerability. He was strong, close to indestructible, and physically, from Dean or any other human, he had nothing to fear. Emotionally, however, now that he was experiencing emotions the way he was, it was a whole different story. Dean could break him so easily, split him open and leave him empty, and then he would truly have nothing.

And he was becoming increasingly aware that he could do the same thing to Dean.

This road they were taking was dangerous, could have disastrous consequences. But it also had the potential to be wonderful, and Castiel felt… optimistic.

They were at the local library, all three of them, and Sam and Dean had been reading through a pile of books on ancient magic, on the outside chance that something could lead to a plausible method of killing Lucifer. Castiel had told them they were wasting their time, and he'd instead (after some instruction from the helpful librarian, who had been overly friendly to the point that Dean had almost growled at her when she leaned too close, and put her hand on Castiel's shoulder), been browsing through a computerised selection of nation-wide newspaper articles focussing on anything out of the ordinary.

Studying the devil's habits, learning his patterns, was the best defence they had, even if they had no way to deal with him at present.

Dean was sitting next to him, slouched down in his chair with a book in his lap, and Sam was on the other side of the table from them, flipping through the pages in his own book much too quickly to actually be reading them. Perhaps he was finally willing to admit that Castiel was right, and this was a waste of time.

Dean hadn't turned a page in over twenty minutes. Castiel had been counting. And he'd been glancing at Castiel, small looks out of the corner of his eye, and he shifted in his seat whenever Castiel would purposefully brush his knee against Dean's under the table.

And this was exactly his problem. Small gestures, that could easily be seen as accidental, were all he could manage to go through with. He needed to change that, needed to take a chance, needed to give Dean what he wanted, to the best of his ability.

He took a deep breath, and lifted one hand off the computer keyboard, and placed it quickly and unceremoniously on Dean's thigh, fingers sitting stiffly on the soft denim covering muscled flesh.

Dean jerked, his knee coming up and banging the underside of the table, and Castiel pulled his hand back immediately, resting on the desk in front of him, limp and splayed, and looking as innocent and inconspicuous as he could possibly manage to make a hand look. Which wasn't very, considering that had touched the man that he coveted, in a less than innocent place.

Dean breathed out a sharp puff of air through his nose. Annoyance, Castiel recognised the gesture as, and he slammed his book shut, as Castiel glanced across the table and saw Sam smirk.

"Okay, that's it," Dean snapped, and Castiel swivelled his head around to regard him with a curious look, as Dean stood. The book he'd been holding fell to the table without a second thought, and he grabbed at the sleeve of Castiel's coat, yanking to pull him to his feet as well.

"Sam, we're going back to the room," he told his brother, who nodded, still smiling. "Feel free to take your time."

"Dude, the library closes in twenty minutes," Sam pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Dean grumbled something about stupid libraries, and stupid ten o'clock closing times, and pulled on the front of his jacket to straighten it out. "Well then see a movie or something. Maybe get a coffee. Read Lord of the Rings."

"Lord of the Rings? Dude, how long do you _need_? Cause I've been living in the same room as you for almost five years now, plus your teenage years, and it doesn't take you _that_ long."

Castiel narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, watched the exchange with interest. They were talking about him and Dean, having sex, as if he wasn't even there, and Castiel knew he should probably be offended by that. He found it hard to care though, when it seemed that finally Dean had recognised his advances, and was ready to act on them.

Dean clenched his jaw, cocked his head in a slight jerk and poked a finger at Sam. "You, shut up," he said, and then spun around on Castiel. "And you, let's go. Sam's a fast reader."

Dean walked off, and Castiel blinked, stared after him for a moment, until Sam cleared his throat and Castiel shook himself, shooting Sam a parting nod before he strode off after Dean.

***

"Have fun," Sam called out behind them, and they both ignored him.

He snickered, and closed his book. It had been a waste of time, anyway. He piled his own up with Dean's, and put them back on the return cart, then cleared the computer Cas had been using of it's browser history, just to be on the safe side, and wandered off into the fiction section.

He had no intentions of going back to the room any time soon. Not now that it looked like Dean and Cas had finally gotten clues. Hell, the only reason he hadn't made himself scarce the past couple of days, was that Dean looked like he might freak out if he was left alone with the angel. But now he most certainly wanted some alone time with Cas, and Sam could so deal with that.

He was looking forward to how relaxed they'd both be after they finally fucked. And yeah, there was a huge part of him that was just happy for his brother. It was a good thing, Dean finally getting something he wanted, something that made him happy. It was… adorable.

Not that he'd ever tell Dean that. He liked his balls just fine where they were.

There was a coffee shop just half a block down from their motel, and Sam could spend a couple of hours there, reading the latest crime thriller.

***

"Okay," Dean snapped, when they got back into the room, and he tossed his keys on the table, and stripped out of his jacket. "You know what? I've fuckin' had it!"

"What are you talking about?" Cas asked, frowning, and the only indication that he wasn't completely cool was the way his hand was sitting on the edge of the dresser, fingers tightening just a bit on the pine-coated particle board.

"What am I…," Dean started, and shook his head, mouth hanging open. "Cas, don't play stupid with me, okay? I'm trying to lay it all out here, and you need to tell me what the fuck is going on. This is… this is hard for me, okay?" He paused, and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, and Cas backed away from the dresser, stared at Dean hard. "Fuck, I just… I need to know if I'm wasting my time here, or what."

"Wasting your time?" Cas asked, and cocked his head, eyes getting even more narrowed in the way that meant that he was sort of confused, but mostly just thought you were an idiot. "Dean, I'm not sure…"

"Goddamn it, Cas!" Dean snapped, and took a step forward, thumping his hand down on the dresser next to Cas'. The fucker didn't even flinch. "You know what I'm talking about here, so don't act dumber than you are."

Dean took a deep breath and pushed off the dresser, walked further into the room, sighing in frustration when he really had nowhere to go, and turned back around, gesturing stupidly with his arms before letting them fall to his sides. "This is new for me too, okay? And I've been trying. But you're giving me practically nothing here!"

"Nothing?" Cas asked, and this time he sounded more annoyed than surprised, face hardening as he stepped closer to Dean, and his voice was low. "I have given you _everything_, Dean."

"You let me kiss you."

"Was that wrong?"

"No, Cas," Dean sighed. "No, it wasn't wrong. I just… It's always me. I'm always the one making the moves, and half the time it's like you're doing fucking multiplication tables in your head to pass the time until it's over. But then sometimes, the way you look at me, or the things you say… Or tonight, when you put your hand on my leg…"

"You would like me to take a more dominant role in our courtship," Cas said, nodding to himself, like he was filing the information away, something else for him to work on, and adapt to.

"Oh my God! You're really not human, are you?" Dean asked, and it was a good thing it was rhetorical, because Cas just stared at him. "First of all, don't say shit like 'courtship'," Dean told him, looking around like somebody might have heard him. "And second, no. I don't want you to do anything you don't decide to do all on your own. I just want… I want to know what you're thinking, I guess. You're so closed off, Cas, and I can't tell what you want."

"You wish me to declare my love?" Cas asked, frowning, and dammit, why the fuck was he not getting this? It was starting to piss Dean off.

He just wanted to know that Cas wanted him. Was that so fucking hard? The idea of Cas just giving it up, going along with Dean's every sexual whim… Well, okay, he had to admit that that had possibilities, on occasion, but he didn't want it to be the status quo for them. He wanted Cas to want him, and to show it. And not be such a fucking cocktease.

"What I want, is to know that you're doing… this…" Dean said, and gestured back and forth between them, not even sure how to phrase it. Because _he_ didn't even know what they were doing, not really. A few awkward kisses, and some wicked sexual tension didn't really add up to a lot, but there was potential. "Because you want to. Because _you_ want to. For you. Not just because I want it, and you feel like you have to do what I say."

Cas took another step closer to Dean, and Dean instinctively took one back. It was stupid, because he knew Cas would never hurt him, not in this kind of situation, but damn, the guy was intimidating. Especially when he got all intense like he was doing now, staring directly at Dean, not even blinking.

Sometimes, Dean forgot that Cas was stronger than he was, but it was times like these, when his personal space was invaded and Cas was looking at him like it wouldn't be any kind of problem to punch his hand right into Dean's stomach, and rip out his guts, that Dean was reminded.

"I do _not_," Cas growled, and his eyes sparked. "Have to do what you say. Don't ever forget that, Dean." Dean's eyes flickered away briefly, and he couldn't stop his fingers from fidgeting.

"How could you think…" Cas continued, and seemed to shrink back into himself a little when Dean flinched back. "That I don't want this?" Cas' eyes flickered down to Dean's lips, and then back up to his eyes, and Dean felt the look right down to his toes.

"Hell, I don't know, Cas," Dean said, though his sarcasm was probably wasted. "Maybe because you don't ever _act_ like you want it? I mean, you let me… touch you, but… Fuck, I don't know man! I hate talking about this shit!" It would really be so much easier if Cas just got it. Save Dean the trouble of looking like a chick by having to talk things out.

"I have done everything for you, Dean," Cas said, and his tone made Dean feel like he was being lectured. Like a kid, getting a dressing down because he didn't appreciate the toys he had, and kept going on about the shiny new ones in the store window. Hell, maybe Cas was right. Dean shouldn't expect the same things of Cas that he would of someone else.

It was just that this whole… fuck, he didn't even know to call it. This thing where he wanted Cas, and pretty much only Cas, and he wanted it to be mutual, and for them to kiss, and maybe even fall asleep together, and where Cas was the thing he thought about when things were bad, and those thoughts made them just a little better… That.

That thing, it was getting to him. He'd only had… that, once before, and it hadn't ended well.

"I've given up everything," Cas continued, still stern, but hopeful, like he needed Dean to understand, and Dean really wished he could. "Given everything to you. My love, my loyalty, my devotion. You take, and I give, until I have nothing left. Until everything I've ever known has been ripped from me. There is only this body now, and that does not even belong to me. But that is yours too, if you want it."

"Damn it, Cas! That's what I'm talking about! What do _you_ want?"

"I love you," Cas told him, cocking his head, and saying the words like Dean was sort of retarded for not getting it sooner, like he'd said it a thousand times already, and he was repeating the lesson for the slow kid in the class.

Dean let out a short bark of laughter and shook his head. "That… That's actually pretty great to hear, Cas, but that's not what I asked."

Cas breathed an irritated sigh and licked his lips, looked straight at Dean. "I have never felt… the desire to express my feelings physically. Angels don't have physical bodies, and when he inhabit vessels, it's usually for a short time. But my stay in this body has been… extended indefinitely. I am cut off from heaven. I am not what I once was, and I am… changing. Beginning to feel things, want things, that I've never considered."

"Cas…"

"And I want you, Dean," Cas told him, stepping closer, and this time Dean didn't back up. "When we touch, it's…" he punctuated his words with a hand on Dean's cheek, pulling him closer, so his lips ghosted over Dean's, and they were sharing breath. "It's like nothing I've ever experienced. It's new, and I'm still learning how to deal with it, how to express it, but make no mistake; it is wonderful."

And then he kissed him. Cas kissed Dean. And Dean fell into it so shamelessly that he knew he'd be embarrassed about it later, but it just felt so damn good that he couldn't be bothered to care. And it wasn't bad. Better than the last kiss even, because Cas took a more pro-active approach, puckered his lips against Dean's at first, teasing him with light touches, and then pried Dean's lips apart with his own, sliding his tongue inside just a little.

He licked across the inside of Dean's top lip, and pressed further, sliding his tongue across Dean's as he wrapped an arm around him and pulled their bodies flush together with a flick of his wrist, his superior strength put to good use as they slotted against each other, legs interlocked, and chests pressed close.

"Fuck," Dean panted, and pushed his hips forward, felt the hard outline of Cas' cock against the inside of his hip, and his breath caught, because _fuck_, that was awesome. He'd done that. He'd made Cas hard. "Cas."

Dean was hard too, he realised almost belatedly, when Cas shifted his hips, the hard plane of his pelvis brushing against Dean's dick, and shooting a spark of lust through his entire body.

It was nice. Hell, it was more than nice, but Dean wasn't especially keen on taking it much further. Not tonight. It was still on the new side, and Dean didn't want to rush it. He didn't have any experience with men, and he didn't want to come across awkward and, well, bad at it. Mostly, he didn't want to freak Cas out by moving too fast. This was a big step he'd taken tonight, and Dean appreciated it, but more before Cas was ready, would do more harm than good.

Also, this thing with Cas was his first emotional investment in a long time, so he figured they had plenty of time to get to the good stuff.

And he could still jerk off if he needed to, without pushing either of them too far, too fast.

Still, that didn't stop him from going willingly when Cas walked him backwards, still placing jagged and inexperienced, though not unpleasant, kisses on his mouth, his hands clenching and sliding over Dean's back, and down over his hips to his ass.

"Bed," Castiel gasped, and Dean nodded, and spun them, so that he was the one pushing Cas back, and his knees bumped into the bed, and they fell, landing together, and shifting to move up the bed and get comfortable.

It happened to be Sam's bed they fell on, but Dean wasn't all that concerned. Sam could just take the other one tonight.

They kissed some more, Dean pressing his lips to Cas' neck, tiny pecks, and wide, open mouthed kisses, tongue sliding up and down along the artery. Cas brought a hand up to the back of Dean's head, and slid his fingers through the short hair, tickling and teasing, messing it up.

They lazily thrust their hips against each other, the sensation on Dean's cock a pleasant background to everything else, and he couldn't help but wonder how Cas felt. His body was obviously interested, but Cas was such a puzzle that it was hard to say if he was enjoying this, or if he was using it as some sort of research.

"This is..." Cas started, words stilted and breathy, as though he was reading Dean's mind. "Good. I would like to do more of this, Dean."

Dean couldn't help but crack a smile at that, and he pulled back, placing one last kiss on Cas' mouth, wet and sloppy.

"Me too, Cas," he said. "Me too." Then he sat up and smacked Cas on the shoulder, tugged on the collar of his trench. "But for now, what say you take your coat off, and let's get some rest."

Cas looked at him curiously, and pushed up on his elbows. "I don't require rest."

"No, but I do. And it doesn't hurt for you either."

Cas must have read something in his expression, because after a few seconds of serious study of Dean's face, he nodded, and stood, shedding his coat, and dropping it to the floor. Dean smiled, kicked out of his pants, and pulled off his overshirt, leaving himself in just a t-shirt and boxers.

He raised an eyebrow at Cas, who made the concession of loosening his tie more than normal, and unfastening an extra button on his shirt, before he got back into the bed. Dean snorted, and got in next to him, close, but not touching. Dean rolled onto his side and hesitated, fingers twitching on the mattress between them before he sighed and rolled his eyes at himself, and slid his hand the extra two inches to interlock his fingers with the angel's.

It was lame, and girly, and Dean just didn't care.

"Sam will be back soon," Cas told Dean, looking down at their hands and raising an eyebrow.

"I know."

"He'll see."

"I know."

There was a pause. "He'll see you holding my hand." And what he really meant was 'he'll think you're a big girl', but Cas didn't say shit like that.

Dean snorted. "I know." Dean was sleepy, and happy, and it wasn't like Sam wasn't expecting them to be up to a lot more than falling asleep next to each other. Especially not since he'd apparently noticed this thing a lot sooner than Dean had.

"I am in love with you, Dean."

Dean smiled, and his fingers squeezed Cas' gently. "I know."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

***

Castiel left before morning.

He was well aware that Dean might not be pleased with his sudden disappearance, but that had only made staying more difficult. He'd fallen in love with Dean just a little bit more every minute that he watched the man sleep, content and trusting next to him, and though he knew, without a doubt, whether Dean was willing to admit it or not, that Dean loved him in return, he was unwilling to remain there, to watch Dean possibly regret what had been done, said, the night before.

Like Dean had said, this between them was new to him, not only because Castiel was in a man's form, but because it was not simply about sex. And he knew that Dean had a tendency to shut down when he felt vulnerable, close himself off, push people away. Castiel didn't want to that happen between them, so Castiel decided to give him his space. If Dean didn't feel crowded, there was much less chance of him regretting opening himself up like he had, being so honest.

In time, Dean would come to truly understand how much Castiel desired him, all of him, his physical form as well as his spirit. Castiel would make sure of it.

In the mean time, he had work of his own to do.

***

Cas popped in a couple of days later, and then a couple of days after that.

Dean had sort of given him the cold shoulder when he first showed up, still a little bitter over Cas just being gone when he woke up. Fuck, he'd gone out of his way to do what he thought Cas wanted. He actually fucking opened up and _talked_ to him. Okay, so it wasn't like he'd really said much, mostly just made Cas admit a bunch of shit, but Cas had seemed okay with that.

He'd never been one to hide things about himself. It wasn't like he went around advertising things – Obviously, or Dean would have known that Cas loved him a hell of a lot sooner, but when asked, Cas was the type that didn't see the sense in lying.

And the physical part, the sex part, the part that seemed to be the hurdle for Cas in all of this, Dean had been taking that slow. That night, all he'd done was make out with Cas a little, some very minor touching. He was keeping it at a junior high school level, and yes, okay, so Dean might have been a bit nervous about going further too, but he really, really wanted to.

He was taking it slow, mostly, for Cas. He'd fallen asleep with a hard-on, pleasant and buzzing between his legs, the delicious ache lulling him into a sleep filled with what he only assumed were happy dreams, because when he'd woken up his dick was even harder, to the point where it almost fucking _hurt_.

And Cas hadn't been there. Not that Dean could have done anything about it, even he _had_ been there, but still. It made him feel a little empty, and it made his morning wood more of an annoyance than anything else.

He'd beat off in the shower, coming fast, and so fucking hard that it was a little uncomfortable, but it wasn't satisfying in the least. All it accomplished was making sure that his dick wasn't poking through his pants when he went to interview the little old ladies at the retirement home about the sudden deaths of all the little old men.

It was a sucky couple of days, over all, and the first half hour after Cas showed up again was _really_ sucky, what with Dean scowling, and making sure he didn't talk directly _to_ Cas, or go anywhere near him, really. But when Sam's face was buried in his laptop, as he intently read an article from a local paper several recent disappearances, Cas softly called his name.

"Dean," he said, the word soft, an almost whisper, so small and tentative it could have easily gotten lost in the air before it even reached Dean's ears. He didn't think Sam even heard it.

Dean clenched his jaw, but looked up anyway, saw Cas leaning casually against the dresser, which was… different. And he was looking at him. Intense and unflinching, like he usually did, but it seemed softer now, somehow. Dean swallowed, and put his book down next to him on the bed, marking his place with his finger, and Cas pushed off the dresser, crossed the three feet to the bed, and sat down next to Dean's sprawled form, legs neatly folded and feet resting on the floor so his back was to Dean.

He turned his upper body and reached across Dean, slid the book out of his hands, brushing his fingers purposefully along Dean's as he did, using the pretence of keeping the page. But the slight flare of his nostrils, the barely-there intake of breath, the widening of his pupils, told Dean that wasn't the reason.

Dean looked down to watch him take the book, and breathed out a long breath, his eyelids fluttering when Cas' hand slipped from his, and he looked up to meet Cas' eyes, licking his lips.

Cas smirked at him, like, actually _smirked_, and brought the book to his lap, opening it up. "I should really look at this," he told Dean, and it was almost that same low, serious tone he always used, but there was something warmer about it, knowing, like they shared a secret now. Which was stupid, because Sam completely knew what was going on, and if Cas wanted to touch him, there was no reason he couldn't.

Still, it was kind of… hot.

"Yeah," Dean said, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. "Yeah, go ahead." He took a minute before he stood up, in which Cas studied the pages before him, hardly blinking as his eyes poured over the words. Eventually Dean stood, and walked across the room to the table Sam was at, and snatched another book off the pile to look through, leaving Cas to the one he'd stolen from him.

It made sense that Cas look at that one anyway. It was the Bible, after all.

After that, it was better.

There weren't any more make-out sessions or snuggle fests, no more falling asleep together, fingers entwined, but that was okay. It had been a pretty busy week for them, and Cas hadn't stuck around longer than a couple of hours at a time, certainly didn't spend the night.

Hell, they hadn't even kissed. Not once.

But when he was there, Cas' eyes seemed a little brighter than normal, and Dean smiled a little more.

And the last two times Cas left, he didn't just fuck off like he usually did, no word of warning.

These past times, both of them, he'd put a hand on Dean's arm, waited until Dean looked at him, locked eyes, and Cas nodded. And then he fucked off. Which was, you know, more than Dean usually got, so there was that.

***

Dean and Sam finished a job in the early hours of the morning, finally dragging themselves back to their room just as the sun was coming up, bitching about unicorns. Yeah, that's right. Unicorns. Turned out Dean had been wrong a few years ago, and they existed after all. And they weren't nearly as cute and fluffy as the fairytales would have you believe.

They crashed, without even showering, and woke up some time late afternoon, went out to grab some food, and ended up at a small bar down the road a little after eight.

And of course, two beers later, and by 8:37pm, Dean was cozied up to some leggy brunette, a few feet down the bar from Sam. They were standing close together and leaning forward, smiling and winking, talking into each other's ears, even though it wasn't nearly loud enough for that to be necessary.

And it was sort of funny that Sam didn't, for a second, think Dean was going to actually sleep with her. It was true that Dean hadn't ever been shy about spreading the love, but after Sam had gotten back to the room a week ago, and had seen them in bed together, not fucking, not even undressed, just… in bed together, Dean sleeping peacefully, and Cas refusing to meet Sam's eyes, it was obvious that they were serious.

And that they'd finally fucking realised it.

And Sam had never seen Dean in a relationship before. Shit, Dean had only ever been in one once in his life, as far as Sam knew, but he was pretty sure Dean was the loyal type. Of course he was. Dean was the most devoted person he'd ever met, regardless of his track record in the bedroom, and his propensity to hit on anything that moved.

Sam's cell phone chirped, and he patted the outside of his pocket, feeling the small object against his hand before he tucked it inside, and pulled out the phone. He looked at the call display. Cas. Figured.

He shot another look at Dean, head thrown back in a fake laugh as his fingers slid up and down his bottle of beer, and flipped his phone open.

"Hey, Cas," he answered.

"Sam. Where are you?" And of course, he couldn't tell anything from Cas' tone. He could be calling with big news, or to let them know there was a sale at Wal-Mart. He sighed, and looked at Dean again before replying.

"Fayetteville, Arkansas," he told him. "Bar on Fourth Street, Boomers. But…"

"I'm on my way."

"No, Cas," Sam hurried to say, trying to stop him from just showing up. "Wait…"

This really wasn't the best time for Cas to pop in. Things were obviously going well between the angel and his brother, but seeing Dean getting along so well with a girl could perhaps make things start to go very, very badly.

And Sam might not exactly have time to explain to Cas that Dean wasn't going to take this anywhere, that his brother was just a natural flirt, and hitting on attractive girls was pretty much his default setting. Cas probably already knew that, but he might not know the part where Dean wasn't fooling around on Cas, period.

But Dean's flirty nature probably wasn't ever going to change, even now that him and Cas were… what? Boyfriends? That sounded stupid, but whatever. It wasn't like there was a better word for it. And Cas was probably going to have to get used to it if things worked out between them. But still, Dean and the girl looked pretty cosy, and this might sort of give Cas the wrong impression.

"You don't need to…" Sam was saying, but there was already a dial tone sounding in his ear. He huffed and shook his head, closed his phone and got up, starting to move in Dean's direction, to warn him. Because he was an awesome brother, and he knew that Dean wouldn't want to take the chance that Cas might be hurt by his mostly harmless fun.

But, it was too late. A half step, that was all it took, and suddenly Cas was standing there, _right there_, next to Dean, and the girl, and Sam couldn't decide if he should laugh or not. Because Dean's eyes bugged out so huge that it was actually pretty damn funny, but he still loved his brother enough to feel a little bad for him.

***

"Cas," Dean choked out, and punched his chest, coughing and looking away, some random place off to Cas' right, because he just couldn't look at Cas. Which he knew only made him seem more guilty, but dude. This was _not_ what it looked like.

He was not gonna take this chick home. Probably. No, no, he definitely wasn't. Sure, she was hot, and funny, and was totally into him, and he'd have _so_ hit that not even a month ago, but tonight he honestly, truly wasn't going to.

They were just talking, and it wasn't like it was going to hurt to flirt a little, hang out and inflate his ego some. She was sort of on the handsy side, which Dean didn't really mind, but he figured Cas might. Hell, if Dean had showed up unannounced and saw some chick leaning in close to Cas, and running her fingers over his, practically holding hands with him on a bar top, Dean sure as fuck would have minded.

Cas looked down at their hands, and the girl ducked her head but looked up at him, all coy smiles and slow blinks, and then Cas looked at Dean. Dean couldn't read him at that moment, but he didn't seem… pissed off. Which was good. Still, he sort of casually pulled his own hand back and wrapped it around his beer bottle along with his other one, took a step away from the girl.

He might as well have just sang out 'Lalala, nothin' to see here,' because it would have been less obvious.

"If you're busy," Cas said, pointedly, and his eyes narrowed. "I can come back later."

And shit. It wasn't like he could say no, he wasn't busy, because he could be kind of a douche to chicks sometimes, but that would be pretty low. And he couldn't exactly say yes, because there was no way in hell he wanted Cas to think he had been planning on banging this chick.

"What's up, Cas?" Dean settled on instead. Nice and non-committal. Cas tilted his head to the side, considering the question, and Dean rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here?" It could have sounded mean, but with Cas, sometimes you just had to put things as directly as possible.

"I wanted to see you," Cas told him simply, and the line of his mouth hardened when the girl (and fuck, Dean wished he could remember her name, because then at least he could introduce them, give himself something to say) when the girl moved closer to Dean again, brushing her hand over Dean's hip, sharp tip of a nail tracing the stitching on his pocket.

Dean cleared his throat and stepped away again, using the excuse of taking a drink of his beer. He finished the bottle and turned around, putting it down on the bar, and if Dean thought God _was_ around anywhere, he'd be praying for some help right about now.

He needed to get rid of the girl, that much was obvious, but he wasn't too keen on saying 'Sorry honey. Didn't mean to lead you on, but this guy and me? Yeah, we kind of have this completely dysfunctional _thing_ going, where we kiss sometimes, even though he's a socially inept angel, and I'm not even into guys.'

He was cool with Sam knowing about it, but he wasn't quite ready to be 'out and proud' with Cas just yet. If he ever would be.

And then, thank God for Sam, maybe even literally, considering his almost prayer of a moment ago, because despite how much of a dick he'd been so far in this whole mess with Cas, he was sometimes an awesome brother.

"Hey Dean," he called, stepping over to the group and waving his cell phone around. "Work," he said, not elaborating. "We gotta go."

Dean visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping down from up around his ears, and even though Sam smirked at him, and shook his head, like he sort of thought it was funny, Dean wanted to kiss him.

Dean turned and flashed an apologetic smile at the girl. "Duty calls," he said, because he'd told her he was a fire fighter, and followed after his brother. Cas stayed behind for half a second to glare at the poor girl, before following Dean.

Once they were outside, Sam leaned in close to Dean. "You owe me," he mumbled quietly into Dean's ear, and Dean snorted at him, and elbowed him in the side. Okay, so it wasn't exactly a kiss, but he figured Sam got that he meant 'thanks'.

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around, mouth already open to start explaining to Cas that it wasn't what he thought, but before he could even get out a sound, the world whited out around him, and in an unseen flutter of wings, the two of them were suddenly back in the motel room.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10 - Warning: Here be porn.

***

Castiel didn't waste any time.

"Cas," Dean said, finishing the turn he'd started outside the bar. "That girl… I wasn't…" But that was as far as Castiel let him got, before he grabbed him by the shoulders and force-walked him backward three steps, slamming him into the wall, hard. A shiver went through Castiel when he remembered doing this to Dean several months ago, in Zachariah's green room, just before he'd betrayed his family, and he felt a slight matching tremble up Dean's arms now, that hadn't been there before.

Things were very different now.

Castiel kissed him, quickly and roughly, mouth pressed down hard over Dean's, cutting off whatever he had been about to say by forcing his tongue between Dean's lips. Dean didn't respond for a moment, eyes wide with honest surprise, and his hands flat against the wall behind him. But soon he started to move, letting out a small groan and cupping Castiel's elbows in his hands, swiping his tongue across Castiel's when his actions demanded it.

"You weren't what, Dean?" Castiel asked, panting and scratchy, low, as he pulled back, leaving Dean slightly dazed. "You weren't flirting with her? You weren't letting her touch you? Weren't making her think she could have you?"

"Cas…"

"What would you have done, had I not shown up when I did?" Castiel leaned in close, nose almost touching Dean's, and his eyes were pulled tight, and hard as steel. Dean swallowed and licked his lips, tried to push harder back into the wall. Castiel suppressed a smirk.

He knew Dean was not afraid of him. He had been at first, but he'd come to know that Castiel would never harm him. And he could tell by the way that Dean's eyes never left his, by the quickening of his breath and the widening of his pupils, that Dean was anything but afraid.

Nervous, certainly. Confused and aroused, but not afraid. He pressed closer.

"Would you have gone home with her? Brought her back here, perhaps?"

"Cas, _no_," Dean answered, so earnestly and without hesitation, that Castiel almost felt bad for playing with him like this. He knew Dean wouldn't have slept with the woman. But that didn't mean that he wasn't bothered by the sight of them together.

Castiel made a concerted effort to return his voice to its usually calm, low timbre, unaffected by passion or anger. "You could have," he said simply, pulling his body back to put a few more inches of space between them.

Dean's body relaxed slightly, and he stood straighter, no longer trying to disappear into the motel drywall, and he raised one curious eyebrow. "What?"

Castiel attempted a shrug, when all he really wanted to do was kiss that confused pull of lips off Dean's face. "You seek comfort in the affections of women," he told him, and it was with a great deal of effort that he didn't growl. He had not approved, but he had not begrudged Dean that small escape, that small joy. He still wouldn't, if it was what Dean really wanted. "I know this, Dean. I know _you_. And you haven't promised me anything."

"Is that what this is about?" Dean asked, incredulous. "You want me to…"

Castiel cut him off again with another kiss, effectively ending the conversation. Castiel wanted no promises from Dean that he was not freely willing to give.

Dean melted into the kiss immediately this time, probably more happy to not have that particular talk than Castiel was, and he didn't complain when Castiel gripped the lapels of his jacket, and pushed them over his shoulders, letting the soft leather fall to the ground.

He didn't complain when Castiel gripped the back of Dean's head with one hand, the other on the side of Dean's waist, and held him immobile while he pushed him back against the wall and ground their bodies together.

He didn't complain when Castiel's hip bone rocked against his dick, the hardness of it making Castiel catch his breath and let out a soft moan. He didn't complain when Castiel broke off the kiss to pull Dean's t-shirt up off and over his head, knuckles brushing over his skin.

But when Castiel spun then, sudden and sharp, hands on Dean's hips and using his superior strength to lift and guide him, without Dean actually having to take a step, toward the bed, Dean managed to worm his hands between the two of them, placing his palms on Castiel's chest, and pushing enough to break the punishing kiss.

"Cas," he gasped, shaking his head, eyes blown wide. "What… what are you doing?"

Castiel paused, and a smile ghosted over his lips. "I thought that would have been obvious, given all your experience." The backs of Dean's legs bumped into the bedframe, and Castiel stopped, dropping him the half centimetre until he was standing fully under his own weight.

Dean let out a small chuckle, and Castiel's touch relaxed on his hips, rubbing soft circles at the bare skin just above his pants. "No, I mean," said, and sucked in a breath, tilted his head back to give Castiel more access when his lips closed over the side of Dean's neck, sucking and biting.

"I mean… We can't. Not here, not now. Sam…"

"Is smart," Castiel interrupted, his voice a low rumble against Dean's skin. "He won't be back here any time soon."

Dean was stiff for a moment longer, despite the gentle pressure Castiel was applying to his arms to push him down, obviously unsure. Castiel leaned forward and pressed his lips over Dean's, slow at first, soft and yielding, then deeper and more urgent, until Dean's hands were moving over him, pulling at his coat to strip him of it.

"I want to show you, Dean," he said, breathy. "I want to show you how much I want you. I want you to have no doubts. I want you to know that I need you. Let me show you."

Dean made a vague squeaking sort of sound, and his hands tightened around Castiel. Instead of going loose, like Castiel had expected, he bucked forward, his hips crashing against Castiel's own, kissing him hard and pulling him down to the bed.

The next several minutes went by in a warm, needy tangle, and he and Dean tumbled together, clothing being shed amongst a flurry of hands and mouths, the occasional elbow, which was less comfortable, but the job got done.

Eventually they were both naked, Dean laid out in front of him, beautiful, his skin glowing in the low light of the 20 Watt bulb in the orange-shaded lamp on the table. His eyes were hooded, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, trying to fill his body with enough oxygen to sustain his excited state. He looked like… like glory, and sin. Debauched and lustful, precious, sacred, and Castiel had never _wanted_ anything so much in all of his existence.

He vaguely wondered what Dean thought of _his_ appearance at the moment, but didn't dwell on it.

He pushed himself up to sitting, next to Dean on the bed, to get into a better position, and started to map every inch of Dean's skin with his hands. He did it slowly, and methodically, reigning in the urge to tear Dean apart, to possess him, not only with his body, but with his soul. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the overwhelming sense of shame that came with wishing he could leave Jimmy behind and inhabit Dean, protect him from Michael that way.

It was impossible, would destroy Dean, and render Jimmy's sacrifice meaningless, and Castiel let the thought go, quickly.

At this moment, he was more concerned with the physical. With his desperate need to touch, to make Dean his.

"Let me, Dean," he said again, but Dean still didn't answer. Just remained still under him, letting Castiel touch. His breathing hitched, when Castiel passed over certain places, the divot in his neck, just above his collar bone, the circle of skin around his belly button, the backs of his knees.

When his fingertips trailed, one at a time, excruciating slowly over Dean's nipples, he watched in fascination as they hardened to small pebbles. Dean tossed his head back and moaned, the sound sending a shiver down Castiel's spine, where it settled between his legs, coiling around his cock.

Castiel moved his hands down, over Dean's ribs, and watched as they expanded and contracted under his hands. His little fingers traced the bottom of Dean's last set of ribs, and moved forward to slide over his stomach, hands splayed wide, possessive.

Dean's hips jerked, and his erect cock twitched, but Castiel bypassed that particular source of pleasure, and directed his hands outward, the tips of his fingers just brushing the edges of Dean's buttocks as they moved to cover his hands, twitching restlessly on the bed at his side.

Dean's hands immediately balled up into fists, and his jaw clenched, and Castiel very much appreciated the effort he put into not moving, not touching Castiel back, to not making this an equal give and take.

It _was_ about mutual pleasure, Castiel was determined that it would be. But for now, it was about him proving something to Dean. Proving that he wanted Dean, just as much as Dean wanted him, and that Dean understood that, and let him do what he needed, was all the proof Castiel required, to know that this was right.

Dean's allowance of his touch, the simple submission to Castiel's whims, without thought of repercussion, was heady. It conveyed a trust so great, so unlike him. Something that Dean would do for nobody else, and Castiel ached with the knowledge.

Solid, sure palms working their way up and down Dean's legs, calloused fingers tickling over Dean's hips, hands sliding up and over Dean's arms, were met with sounds, sounds Castiel would give anything to play over and over in his head for all eternity. The sounds were accompanied by jerks and shifts, Dean trying to remain still, hitches of breath and clenched teeth.

Castiel was in awe.

When Castiel's hands moved up, over Dean's shoulders to grip his arms, he slowed, studying the pale, faded handprint on Dean's right bicep. It was regrettable, that he'd had to scar such an otherwise perfect form, but it was unavoidable.

And it served as a reminder, to both of them, of all they had been through. Let them know of all that they had sacrificed for the world, for each other, and in Dean's case, for Sam. It told them, day after day, that Castiel had brought Dean back, built him up again, and that Dean _belonged_ to Castiel.

It was a good mark, despite its marring perfection, and Castiel bit his lip, and placed his hand over it, fingers fitting perfectly to the print.

And then Dean wasn't still anymore. His hands shot up from the sheets, pulling Castiel down on top of him, interlocking their legs and grinding their erections together, Dean's hips rolling. His hands slid up Castiel's body, pebbling the flesh as they went, until they landed on Castiel's face, palms cupping his cheeks, guiding him down for a kiss.

It was easy, as if they'd practiced a thousand times, and when Castiel licked across the roof of Dean's mouth, Dean slipped his hand between their bodies, and curled his fingers around both their cocks, pumped slowly.

Castiel was momentarily stunned, not prepared for the action, or the sensation it would bring. It was good. So good it was almost overwhelming, and he got the far off notion that he might actually die from it.

He thrust into Dean's fist anyway, unable to help himself, but before long the sensations built, intensified, and it became too much. He broke away from Dean's kiss, gasping and pulling back, desperate for some sort of explanation, solution, to the sensations.

"Cas?" Dean asked, hand stilling around his own erection when Castiel's was pulled out of his grasp. He sounded concerned, his eyes wide, and curious, his voice rough with arousal and worry. Castiel did not think he could love anything more.

"I'm fine, Dean," he told him, and he was surprised to find that he sounded a little breathless himself. He shouldn't have been, but these were new experiences, and there were some things about this, certain reactions, the depth of pleasure, that he hadn't thought would apply to himself. "It is… a lot." As far as explanations went, it wasn't a great one, but it was all he had.

Dean seemed to get it though, because he smirked at him, moved his hand so that it brushed over Casteil's hardness, drawing a sharp hiss of pleasure from him. "Close, huh?"

Castiel frowned at him, narrowed his eyes. "Close to what?"

Dean groaned, and pushed his head back into the pillow, but this wasn't pleasure. This was exasperation. "Are you kidding me?" And then suddenly Dean's head snapped up, and his eyes widened. "Oh God," Dean said, not quite surprised, but like something was just now sinking in, that he'd known all along. "You've never had an orgasm."

Castiel's frown deepened. "Of course not. I've had no reason to before… you. This."

Dean smiled then, big and wide. "Oh, buddy, you're gonna _love_ it!"

Castiel returned his smile with one of his own, not nearly as bright, or beautiful as Dean's, and placed a hand on Dean's chest, dragging it down to his belly. "I think you're right," he told him, as his palm trailed over Dean's cock, pushing against it, fingers hooking down to cup Dean's balls.

Dean cried out and bucked up into Castiel's touch, his own hands moving to hold on to Castiel's arms, fingernails digging into the skin there, leaving marks. "Fuck, Cas," Dean panted, wriggling as Castiel kneaded his flesh, working his way between Dean's legs, spreading slightly and shifting to the side to get a better look.

"Dean you…" he started, and his words dried up, so he swallowed and tried again. "You are beautiful like this. Magnificent."

"Not so… bad yourself," Dean answered around heavy breaths, lips twisting up a grin. "Shit, Cas. So fuckin' good."

"Are you… close, Dean?" Castiel asked him, knowing and amused.

Dean laughed a broken laugh, and bucked his hips. "Gettin' there."

Castiel pulled his hand away, lifted it slightly, studying the slippery fluid that had left a trail up his palm with interest, before sitting up between Dean's legs. He pressed the heels of his hands to Dean's thighs, and pushed at them, forcing his legs even further apart.

His hands slid over Dean's legs, one resting in the groove of his hip while the other wrapped around Dean's cock, and Dean gasped, swallowed thickly and Castiel shuddered at the bobbing of his throat. He stroked him, slowly and then faster, when the noises Dean made got more urgent, and Castiel's free hand shifted.

Over and down, fingertips pressing on his balls, and then lower, middle finger just barely brushing over the crack of Dean's ass. His thumb brushed over the head of Dean's cock on an upstroke, and at the same time he pressed his finger further, the tip of it landing snug against Dean's opening.

Dean tensed, and Castiel stopped moving, dragged his eyes away from the sight of Dean's quivering muscles, the sudden tightness around the very tip of his finger so unbelievably enticing that he suddenly wanted to feel it wrapped around him. The desire was so intense that he thought he would blow apart, and but he managed to hold himself together, as he looked up to Dean's face.

"Dean?" he asked, and when Dean didn't say anything, didn't move, just bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists around the blanket, Castiel pushed the finger in further, up to the first knuckle. "Dean," he said again, but this time it was a prayer.

"Fuck," Dean hissed, and closed his eyes, blew out a breath, heavy and long. After much too long a time, a thousand heartbeats, an eternity, he opened his eyes again, to stare straight at Castiel, decision made. "Yeah," he nodded, "Yeah okay." His words were tight, hesitant and almost grudging, and Castiel hadn't noticed until Dean had finally given his permission, how tense he himself had been. Expectant and desperate, _needy_.

It was wholly unsettling, and wonderful at the same time.

Castiel pushed his finger in slightly further, and Dean tensed up yet again, reached down to grab Castiel's wrist. "Just…" he said, and his voice was strained. "Just let me up for a sec first. I gotta…" He gestured to his bag on the floor by the bathroom. "Got some Vaseline in there, and we ain't doin' this without some kind of lube."

Castiel nodded and moved away, giving Dean space to get up. When he crossed the room, it was without his usual confident swagger, and Castiel was suddenly struck by the fact that Dean was just as nervous about this as he was. Probably more. Strange, considering how enthusiastic he'd seemed when they'd started.

Soon Dean was back, sitting on the bed next to Castiel, hand absently rubbing at the back of his next as he looked down at his knees, and pushed the tub into Castiel's hand.

"Show me what to do, Dean," Castiel told him. He knew how this worked, knew what came next, but he needed Dean's guidance, needed to hear what Dean wanted. He wanted it to be good for the man, and he was willing to follow any instruction that Dean gave him.

"Dude," Dean snorted, shaking his head. "It's not like I'm an expert on gay sex, Cas, but I'm pretty sure you just… slick it up, and stick it in."

"How romantic," Castiel deadpanned. Because he could be funny too, on occasion.

Dean smiled. "Look, I've just… never done this before… so lots of that shit," he said, nodded at the Vaseline, "and go slow. Fingers first, to stretch me out."

Castiel nodded, though he already knew that much, and leaned in to kiss Dean, soft on the mouth. "We don't have to."

"I know that!" Dean snapped, but then took a breath and turned, pulled Castiel with him to lay down on the bed. "But I want to. Come on," he added, with a cocky smile, when Castiel did not appear convinced. "Show me what you got."

Castiel did as Dean instructed. He positioned himself between Dean's legs, like they had been before, and he pulled off the lid of the yellow plastic tub and stuck his fingers in, pulling out a large blob of the jelly. He reached back down between Dean's splayed legs, pressing the tips of three fingers to Dean's hole without preamble, and began to push.

"Dude!" Dean shouted, pushing up on his elbows to glare at Castiel, who had frozen, looking at Dean with his head cocked. "One at a time! Christ."

"Sorry," Castiel apologised sincerely, and slid one finger in as far as it would go. Dean's face tightened up, but loosened immediately, and Castiel pumped his finger in and out a few times, watching it avidly, the desire to be inside Dean, _inside Dean_, eating away at his patience.

He slowly worked in another finger, and then another, paying careful attention to Dean's reactions, listening when he told him to slow down, speed up, twist, pull. Dean's erection had flagged slightly, but he was absently stroking it now, bringing it back to full hardness as Castiel opened him up, and the sight made Castiel bite his lip, hard, and groan.

"You ready?" Dean asked him, blinking slowly, and his eyes were back to lustful again, a fact for which Castiel was grateful.

"I have been ready for some time, Dean. I thought the point of this was to get _you_ ready."

"Smart ass," Dean mumbled. "Yeah, I'm ready. Come on," he said, and tugged at Castiel's hand, encouraging him forward. He went willingly, watched Dean flinch as he pulled his fingers free, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, a silent apology, before he gripped his own cock by the base, and lined up.

Dean was looking into his eyes, and he was smiling, tiny and serene, and he gave a small nod, wrapped his legs around Castiel's, and tugged gently. Castiel pushed in, bottoming out in one thrust, and it was… It was wondrous. His entire body was _buzzing,_ alight with something completely indescribable.

Dean winced, and sucked in a breath, and Castiel tried to calm himself down enough to pay attention, because the very last thing he wanted to do was hurt Dean. "Are you alright?" he managed to choke out, when all he really wanted to do was pull out and slam back in again. Again and again until he couldn't remember his own name, or Dean's. Until all there was, was this feeling.

"Yeah," Dean said, but his voice was high, and tight. "Just a little… awkward."

"I am hurting you."

Dean smoothed a hand over Castiel's back, up and down, up and down, over his spine. "A little," he admitted. "But it's okay. I'm pretty sure it'll pass. Keep going."

So Castiel did.

Little by little, Dean started to relax, started to push up to meet his thrusts, started to make the happy little moans of pleasure again. And every so often, Castiel assumed when the head of his cock came into contact with Dean's prostate, Dean gasped, or cried out, or swore, loudly.

And little by little, Castiel felt himself fall apart. The pleasure grew, and grew, until it became so all-encompassing that his consciousness exploded in brilliant flash of colour so vivid it defied description. It was probably an orgasm, he barely had time to think, before he passed out.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

***

It had been a new experience for Dean, feeling things he hadn't ever quite felt before. Not the physical sensation of the sex, because he'd hooked up with a few kinky chicks in his time, so it wasn't like he'd never had anything up his ass before. But this was the first time he'd been _fucked_. By a guy, by an angel, by… by someone he cared so much about.

And it had hurt. Not just in the physical way, though there was definitely some pain involved, especially at first, but… Dean felt torn apart emotionally. He'd been vulnerable, still was. He'd let Cas in, in the most intimate of ways, felt how much Cas loved him, and now it was like… he couldn't stand to lose him, not after this. Even more than before, he needed to hang on to Cas, and never let go.

It was funny, Dean had never really thought about sex like this before. He kinda thought he might be in love.

He was screwed.

Heh.

And the sex itself had been… Okay, not the best sex ever, but once they got going, it had been pretty close to good. Just the feel of Cas touching him like he had, his lips on him, his hands, his body pressed against his… Yeah, that had been great. And sure, his dick was sort of scary to start out with, especially when it was headed for Dean's ass, because besides his own, Dean had never even _seen_ another dick up close, let alone touched one.

But after the initial pain, the sort of uncomfortable fullness, he'd gotten used to the way it worked inside him, slid in and out, and the fullness had actually started to feel pretty good. And the way it hit his prostate every so often, the spongy head so much nicer than the hard, rounded nails on some chick's hand, was something he could definitely get used to.

He'd had to jerk himself while Cas fucked him, because the angel hadn't thought to offer, which was understandable considering he'd never had sex before, and was probably a bit overwhelmed to be thinking properly. And Dean had had to finish on his own, furiously working himself, hand and cock squished between their bodies after Cas had collapsed on top of him, completely unconscious.

But that was okay. It wasn't like he'd really thought Cas was gonna knock it out of the park his first time at bat, was new at this, and with enough practice he'd get better. Hell, he'd get awesome, considering what a great teacher he had now.

Cas wasn't out for long. Dean's hand was still wrapped around his own dick, his come still warm and sticky on their skin, and Dean's breathing was just starting to even out again after coming down from his orgasm high, when Cas jerked, lifted his head, and blinked down at Dean.

"Sorry," he mumbled sleepily, and rolled off Dean, softened cock slipping out with a squishy sort of feeling, and placed himself on his back next to Dean. Dean was still feeling pretty sated, body soft and relaxed, despite the throbbing ache in his ass, arms and legs sprawled and bent. Cas was… rigid, almost.

Dean frowned, fidgeted, sighed, and fidgeted some more. His partner next to him, stiff as a fucking board, and staring at the ceiling, was not something Dean was used to, after sex. Passing out, sure. Giggles, okay. Heavy breathing and praises, most of the time. But this… never. It made him uneasy. Insecure, which was something he was very familiar with overall, but never in the bedroom.

"Cas, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean," came the neutral sounding reply, which didn't exactly to a lot for Dean's confidence.

He didn't usually fish for validation after sex, but most of his partners didn't just lie there motionless and silent afterward, either. Cas had seemed to enjoy himself well enough while they were doing it, but maybe now he was having second thoughts.

Dean's fingers twitched restlessly over his stomach as he fought the urge to reach for Cas, to pull him closer, kiss him, touch him.

"How was it?" he asked, even as he cringed. He was usually so much fucking cooler than this. He was hanging around Sam too much. His brother's geek was obviously contagious.

"It was… intense," Cas told him, and Dean waited several seconds before Cas turned his head toward Dean.

"Intense…" Dean prompted, raising an eyebrow. "Like, intense _good_, or…"

Cas smiled and lifted an arm, one knuckle brushing over Dean, from his chin, down over his neck and chest and finally pulling away when it reached his belly button. "Yes," he answered. "Like… _very_ good."

Dean snorted and shook his head, grinned and caught Cas' hand in his, just held it for a minute.

"And you?" Cas asked. "Was it… good?"

And okay… awkward. Because it hadn't sucked, but it hadn't been awesome, and Dean didn't want to lie. Not only that, but he was pretty sure Cas could half read his mind, so he didn't even think he _could_ lie to him.

"Dean?" Cas asked again, after a few seconds of silence. He frowned and pulled his hand back, eyes looking at Dean hard. "You didn't like it."

"No!" Dean protested, scowling and shifting closer to Cas on the bed, throwing an arm over the angel's waist. "No, of course I liked it. Cas it was…"

It was what? Physically somewhat lacking, but emotionally, pretty much the most intense experience of his sexual life? Yeah.

"I loved it. I mean… we could use some work, sure, and it's only gonna get better, but… Yeah. It was good."

Cas looked at him like he didn't quite believe him, but he relaxed into Dean's body anyway, when Dean squeezed, and pulled him closer. Dean closed his eyes, and placed a kiss on Cas' forehead, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence that lasted almost ten comfortable minutes.

Eventually though, Dean figured it was probably time to get up, get cleaned, and into a less compromising position before Sam got back. He didn't really figure 'naked, and covered in his own come, leaking an angel's jizz out of his ass' was a look he wanted to show off to his little brother.

He took a breath and tilted his head, nudging Cas' nose with his, and ready to tell him just that, but perhaps a little less graphically, but with his lips that close to Cas' lips, his mind sort of went blank. He moved forward, his mouth just barely touching down over Cas' slightly open mouth, when his phone chirped, loud and obnoxious, and Dean sighed and pulled back, flopping down on his back on the bed.

He slapped Cas on a strong, sex-warmed thigh with the back of his hand. "Cas," he said, sounding tired and not at all interested in whoever was on the phone. He nodded toward the table next to Cas' side of the bed. "You're closer. Could you reach…" And then he blinked, and looked down, lifted up his hand, to find his cell phone nestled safely in his palm.

"Cheater," he grinned, but it was actually pretty cool. Fucking an angel was awesome. For a lot of reasons.

He looked at the phone. It was a text. From Sam, obviously.

_I'm in the room next door. The walls are thin. I'm fucking traumatised._

Dean barked out a sharp laugh and Cas looked at him, silently asking what was so funny. "Sam," he answered, and texted back.

_Shut up. Bitch._

Well, at least he didn't actually _see_ anything this time, which was something they should really all be thankful for. Sam had walked in on more than enough of Dean's sexual romps for either of them to be comfortable with.

Dean didn't put his phone back down until it chirped again, ten seconds later, and he looked down at the screen.

_Jerk._

Of course.

"What about Sam?" Cas asked, when Dean tossed the phone down on top of his jeans, on the floor.

"He's staying next door tonight," Dean said, and shot Cas a wicked smile, and a wink.

He was surprised when Cas pushed himself up onto one elbow, smirked at him, and put a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his stomach and smearing Dean's come over his belly and down into the course patch of pubic hair. "Then we'll have to be much quieter when we have sex this time."

Cas trailed his fingers over Dean's flaccid dick and across his balls, cupping the inside of his thigh and applying gentle pressure, slowly lifting it, spreading Dean out.

"Dude," Dean laughed, and slapped Cas' hand away. "It's been like, ten minutes. We're gonna need a little more time than…" He trailed off as he glanced playfully down Cas' body, only to settle his gaze on a surprisingly hard cock, jutting out proudly from between Cas' legs.

"Holy fuck," he gasped, surprised and not a little impressed. "Angels may be dicks, but… Damn that's pretty cool."

"Dean?" Cas asked, puzzled.

"Little thing called 'recovery time', Cas," Dean told him. "Though I guess your kind doesn't have that problem."

Can nodded, and rested his hand on Dean's stomach, palm down over the sloppy remnants of his spend. "I understand. You're unable to perform."

"Dude!" Dean barked, jerking back. "Okay, I know you're new to all this, but Cas, here's a hint: Don't ever accuse a guy of being impotent!"

"I don't believe you're impotent, Dean," Cas answered, still pulling that confused and innocent face. Dean really wanted to be offended, but it was hard when Cas looked like that, even though Dean didn't buy it for a second. "But if you currently can't achieve an erection, you won't be able to reach orgasm. It's okay. We can wait until your body is ready."

"Cas, if I didn't know that you have absolutely no idea what a jackass you sound like, I'd knock your fuckin' block off." His tone was warm though, and his lips were pulled back in a smile.

The frown on Cas' face deepened. "Should I go?"

"What? No. Of course not. Cas…" Dean sighed, and shifted uncomfortably, the feel of Cas' come leaking out of him, cooling as it did, making him feel sort of uncomfortable and used, especially with Cas willing to leave so soon after. "Even if we weren't gonna fuck again, which, by the way, we so are," he told him, waggling his eyebrows. "I wouldn't want you to go. It's… I feel better when you're around, Cas. Having you here while I sleep, just you being around… It's good."

Cas' lips quirked, and he looked down at Dean, ducked in to lick across Dean's bottom lip. "It is. And don't worry; I'll love you even if you can't meet my sexual needs."

"If I can't… Oh, you little…"

And if Dean was thinking things through, instead of trying to protect his image, he would have known that Cas was teasing him. Hell, he _did_ know, but that didn't stop him from sitting up, pushing Cas flat on his back, and crawling over him.

"You're the one who passed on me right at the good part, pal," Dean growled, nipping at Cas' chin, his neck, sucking hard while his fingertips dug into Cas' biceps. "I had to fuckin'… Never mind. We're going again. And you better make it count."

Dean crawled forward a little and reached down, wrapped his hand around Cas' erection, and angled it back. He canted his hips down, dragging the tip of Cas' cock across his balls, and the slip of skin under them, and then paused when it was lined up with his hole.

He breathed in and out several times, eyes closed, trying to ignore how fucking weird this was. Dean, as a rule, didn't bounce up and down on cocks. Shit. Did this make him gay? He didn't think so, because the thought of tits still turned him on, and there wasn't another man in the entire world that he'd even consider doing this with.

He wasn't nearly delusional enough to think that this didn't make him bi, maybe. At least after the past half hour. Because Cas was a dude, and he was a dude Dean really wanted to fuck. Again. He was a dude Dean was fucking _in love_ with, maybe. But for now, and the foreseeable future, he didn't think his sexuality mattered beyond him and Cas, anyway. So he wasn't gonna spend any more time thinking about it than he had to.

Because that shit was awkward.

He opened his eyes again, and looked down at Cas. He was still slick from the last time, Vaseline and jizz coating his passage, and he fucking _ached_, but he wanted to do this again. And not just because Cas was making fun of him, in his bizarre angel way. He just _wanted_ it.

He licked his lips and blew out a breath, sunk down, the crown of Cas' cock breaching his tight ring of muscle, and he hissed in sharply, but didn't stop moving. It stung, but only at first, and then the sting quickly turned into a more intense version of the dull ache that had taken up residence about two minutes after Cas was first inside him.

Overall, it was easier, because he was already stretched out, but he was also already sore, so being so full again so quickly, only made it _more, _of everything.

Still, it wasn't bad. A few pushes back and down, a little roll of his hips at the end, and he thought he was kind of in the zone. Not mind-blowing, but good. He slowly started to raise his chest, angle his body closer and closer to ninety degrees to the bed, to Cas, hands on Cas' chest as his hips rocked, and Cas bucked up under him.

Dean still wasn't hard, but that was okay. This was more about experimenting at this point, than it was about getting off. He wanted to know what he could take, what felt good, what Cas liked.

Eventually he was sitting upright, and he looked down, at Cas. He was… he was fucking incredible. Eyes all slow and heavy, lips parted just the smallest bit and the pink tip of his tongue moving lazily between them. He looked like he was fucking high, all laid out under Dean, hands placed on Dean's knees, fingers shifting over the skin, and hips bucking up into Dean as he lowered himself, again and again.

It wasn't long before Dean set up a good rhythm, up, down, swirl, fingernails digging into Cas' chest, Cas grunting, and bucking up, Dean wincing, then sucking in a sharp gasp and shivering with the growing pleasure.

It lasted a hell of a lot longer this time.

Probably half because Cas had just come, and half because Dean was controlling the motions, held Cas down when he had to, didn't let him get too far ahead of the game. Wouldn't let him fuck Dean too hard, and Dean kept his pace steady.

At some point, it stopped hurting entirely.

Right about the time Cas looked up at him, blinked, and slid his hands up Dean's thighs, the left one stopping at his hip, the right one wasting no time grabbing his cock, squeezing, making Dean cry out and tilt his hips, landing extra hard on that down thrust.

And then he was hard again. Hell he could have been before that, but he'd honestly just been so wrapped in the feeling of Castiel inside him, _under_ him, that nothing else had seemed important. He had Cas pinned to bed, and he was fucking riding him.

That was… That was intense.

And the more moaning Cas did under him, the faster his fist jerked his cock, the harder his hips thrust up, the more Dean felt. Felt how Cas loved him, how Cas wanted him, and felt how awesome it was, fucking someone with a dick.

"Shit, Cas," he breathed out, and sped up a little. He was having a great time, abso-fuckin-lutely, but his legs were starting to get sore, and he was thinking it might be time to wrap this round up. A quick glance at the clock on the table told him almost forty-five minutes had passed. And he was a damn good lay, if he said so himself, but shit, that was a long time for a thirty year old man to be working out his thighs.

Cas seemed to be paying a lot more attention this time though, because when Dean's hand squeezed down tighter on Cas' shoulder, Cas only bucked up harder, faster under Dean, angling himself to consistently hit Dean's sweet spot. His hand sped up, pumping Dean's cock faster than humanly possible, literally, his thumb rubbing over the head, and putting just the right amount of pressure on the underside on the upstroke.

Damn, but Cas was a fast learner.

"Fuck!" Dean swore, when he landed on Cas' lap particularly hard, sharp stab of pain overridden by pleasure, and Cas' hand squeezed hard around his shaft, loosened and pumped, until Dean couldn't take any more.

Cas' hand was wrapped around his prick, and Cas' dick was up his ass. He was surrounded by Cas, filled up with Cas, it was Goddamned fucking amazing.

"Dean," Cas said, low and weak. "Let go for me."

And Dean lost it. Jerked forward once, twice, and he came all over Cas' stomach, panting and blinking, vision fading and blurring.

"You're beautiful," Cas told him, and then both his hands gripped Dean's hips, holding him in place as Cas pushed up, hard, half a dozen times. On the last thrust he held Dean still, held himself pushed inside as far as he could, and let out a series of pathetic sounding whimpers, before letting go, and falling back on the bed, collapsing with Dean on top of him.

"Cas…" Dean started, out of breath and unsure how to continue.

"Sleep, Dean," Cas answered, hands on Dean's hips and lifting him easily, placing him on the bed next to him. Yeah, the second time was a huge improvement. He was definitely looking forward to the third.

But not right now, and hell, Dean couldn't argue with sleep. And he couldn't argue with Cas next to him, even if they were still sticky, and sweaty. Cas pulled Dean close, threw an arm over his chest, kissed him, slowly, oh so fucking slowly, on his neck, and Dean breathed out a shaky breath, melted into Cas' arms. And slept.

***

The next thing Dean knew, the harsh morning sunlight was filtering in through the spaces between the curtains, rousing him from a restful sleep. He clenched his eyes shut, even though they were never open in the first place, and shifted his hips, reached out his hand.

And found nothing.

Cas was gone.

Fucking son of a bitch.

It wasn't like Dean needed flowers or shit like that, but Jesus Christ, they'd been over this! Cas could at least let him know before he took off, left Dean spent and loose, sticky and fucked out and _alone_.

Cas was a shithead.

And if Dean had ever loved him in the first place, which he didn't, by the way, he totally didn't love him anymore.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

***

Sam woke up and groaned, rolled over onto his stomach and lifted a heavy arm, smacking himself in the face in an attempt to alleviate an itch on his nose. He blinked his eyes open and pushed himself up, blanket falling down to his waist, and he shivered in the slight chill of the room.

He looked at the empty bed next to him and frowned for a split second, before he remembered that Dean wasn't staying in this room. And then the cold made sense, because Sam's bag, with the t-shirt he worse to sleep in, in the winter, was next door.

And so was all the stuff he needed to shower, and dress for the day. _Perfect_, he thought, as he rolled his eyes and got up, tugging on his pants and shirt that he'd left on the floor by the side of the bed. It wasn't the first time he'd cleared out so Dean could get some, but he'd usually at least had enough warning to get his shit out of the room, in case he needed it.

Stupid angels, with their need for immediate gratification, lack of manners, and super instant transportation powers.

Now, Sam was going to have to go over there, probably wake them up, and God knew what the hell he'd see when he went in there. Hopefully Dean would just hand him his bag through a small crack in the door, because while Sam thought it was awesome that Dean and Cas were _finally_ together like that, he didn't actually need to see it with his own eyes.

Hearing it happen, _twice_, was horrifying enough, thanks.

He left his room and walked next door, fingered the key to Dean's room that was still in his jacket pocket, but didn't even think about using it. He knocked instead, maybe a little too loudly, as the door rattled on its hinges.

"Dean!" he called through the painted white wood, and waited several seconds for a response.

He heard a mumbled and unhappy "Yeah?" from inside, but it didn't sound like Dean had been sleeping. Fuck, Sam couldn't be interrupting… No. Hell no. They couldn't be at it _again_, could they?

"If I come in there," he asked. "Am I gonna be scarred for life?" Yeah, hearing his brother have gay sex with an angel was disturbing enough, but to actually see… whatever the hell he would see if he went in there that he was _not_ thinking about, would just be a whole new level of wrong.

"Give me five minutes," Dean's voice said through the door, after a pause.

Sam snickered and shook his head. Unbelievable.

His breath stank, and he hadn't even combed his hair, and he probably looked like he was homeless, but he decided to give Dean fifteen minutes, instead of five, just in case, and crossed the street to the McDonalds, figuring he might as well pick up breakfast while he waited.

He didn't know if he should get anything for Cas or not, because the angel ate, sometimes, but usually only as a social exercise. And after banging his brother, Sam figured any kind of polite social convention would be well past, by now. He waited in line behind a family of five, and when it was his turn at the counter he mentally shrugged, and got an extra order of pancakes, just in case. It never hurt to be polite.

When he got back to the room, he knocked on the door, and after an almost welcoming murmur from Dean, he let himself in. Dean was showered, and dressed, and the only evidence that Dean had gotten lucky last night was the unusually messed up bed, and the stale smell of sex in the stagnant air.

Castiel wasn't even there.

So much for the extra pancakes.

"Breakfast?" Sam offered, holding up the paper bag, and Dean groaned happily a little, pushed himself up from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed, standing a little stiffly.

"Fuck, yes," he breathed out, staring at the bag like he hadn't eaten in days. But then, that was Dean's default setting when it came to food, so Sam shouldn't have been surprised. He was pretty confident that Cas' pancakes would find a good home, soon.

Sam put the bag down at the table, and sat in one of the chairs, opening it up and pulling out the food, placing it on the table as he watched Dean cross the room. His movements were a little stilted, he was moving just the slightest bit slower than normal, and when he sat down across from Sam he shifted in his seat, moving his weight from one butt cheek to the other a few times, wincing slightly before he managed to get comfortable.

Well, that… Yeah. An angel had fucked his big brother in the ass. God, Sam _so_ didn't need to know that. He was glad they were together, he was okay with knowing they did naughty things to each other, but he really, _really_ didn't need the gory details. Or even the vague ones.

Dean took a huge bite of his Egg McMuffin, and washed it down with a swig of bitter coffee. Sam finished off his hashbrown and wiped his hand on a paper napkin.

"So," he said, reaching for his pancakes, while Dean shovelled the rest of his sandwich into his mouth. "Where's Cas?" Because he figured avoiding the subject altogether would just be awkward. And also, he was curious.

"Dunno," Dean said, garbled and through a mouthful of egg and bread, shrugging. "Took off."

"Did he say where?"

Dean's jaw ticked, barely, and he took another drink, then reached over for the pancakes that Sam had bought for Cas. "Nope. Was gone before I woke up."

_Ouch_. Okay, make a joke, Sam figured. That was the best way to deal with getting ditched, at least for Dean. "Heh," he snorted, and slid the little packet of maple syrup across the table for Dean. "Maybe you're not as good a lay as you think."

Dean opened the package of syrup and poured it over his pancakes, before throwing it back at Sam, hitting him in the shoulder with it. "Bite me. Bitch."

Sam's grin widened, because if ever there was a golden opportunity… "Actually," he said, "I think _you're_ the bitch now, Dean."

"Dude!" Dean balked, and some pancake fell out of his mouth and onto the table in front of him. It was no small wonder that Dean _ever_ managed to get laid with manners like he had. That was disgusting.

"Well," Sam smirked, and reached across to spear one of Dean's sausages with a spare fork. "You _are_ walking kind of funny today."

Dean narrowed his eyes, and shot Sam a death glare, before apparently deciding that the pancakes made up for Sam's lack of tact, and his face loosened up as he started chewing again.

"Whatever," he said. "You're just lucky you brought me one of those hot apple pie things."

***

After breakfast they checked out the local newspaper that Sam had borrowed from the motel lobby, not expecting anything, just checking it over. Nothing popped out at them, and they hit the road, Sam checking the internet on his cell phone as they drove east.

They stopped for lunch in Blytheville, and overheard a conversation between two teenage girls at the table next to theirs. Well, they heard one of the girls, anyway. She had one of those overly loud voices, like she hadn't yet learned what was appropriate etiquette for a public place, but her friend was quieter. Dean liked her friend.

"You know Gina? Yes you do. She's dating Matt, from the lacrosse team? No, the brunette. Yeah, well, he's kind of a manwhore. Anyway, she was talking to Nancy, from our algebra class, and she says her grandma's house is totally haunted. It's true! I swear. Just started a couple months ago, things going missing, strange sounds, power going out all the time…"

"What do you think?" Sam asked, tilting his head toward the girls.

"I think it's a couple of teenage girls without anything better to talk about than bogus ghosts."

"Still, think it's worth checking out? I mean, we're already here, and it's not like we have anywhere else we need to be right now."

It was true. They were just sort of… driving, for the moment. Made as much sense to check this out as anything they'd find anywhere else. Even if it was just a standard haunting, and nothing apocalypse related, a ghost was a ghost, and they still had jobs to do.

Dean shrugged, and pulled out his wallet, tossed a few bills down on the table to cover their food. "Might as well," he said, and stood, smiling his most winning smile and waiting for Sam to follow him over to the other table to find out what the girls knew.

Four hours later, they learned that Dean was wrong. Very, very wrong. Not only did it turn out to be something, instead of teenagers just liking the sounds of their own voices, but it turned out to be a whole lot of something.

It wasn't just Gina's grandmother's house, and it wasn't just one ghost. The whole freakin' town turned out to be haunted, every single person that had ever died and been buried there suddenly awake and pissed off.

It took them six days, seven phone calls to Bobby, and pretty heavy duty cleansing ritual, performed in the yard of the town's oldest church to waste them. It wasn't like Dean and Sam could exactly salt and burn every single corpse in every single cemetery, so while the ritual was dangerous, and fucking _wiped them out_, it was really their only choice.

The ghosts obviously weren't too happy about that, and the Winchesters got themselves a pretty good beat down out of the deal, but eventually they got the fuckers. And Bobby was currently looking into it, trying to tie it into Lucifer somehow.

When they were finished, they drove for 8 hours, and crashed in a motel room in Nebraska, and slept for the entire day.

Dean's phone rang a little after nine that night, and if him and Sam hadn't been mumbling for the last twenty minutes about maybe getting up anyway, and heading around the corner to get something to eat, he would have ignored it.

He grabbed it off the table next to the beds and looked at the call display.

"Who is it?" Sam asked around a yawn, and pushed himself up, looking around the room for his pants.

"Cas," he answered, before flipping his phone open. "Yeah?" he asked into the small mouthpiece, maybe a little too snappish, but he'd had a rough fucking few days, and he was still a little pissed about Cas just taking off on him after all the sex. Fuck, he was such a chick.

"Where are you?" was Cas' simple reply, and as soon as Dean had finished rhyming off their location, Cas appeared inside the door, coat billowing around him slightly in the breeze of his fluttering wings.

His hair was rumpled, like it usually was, and his clothes were perfectly imperfect, coat sitting slightly off along the line of his shoulders, and tie loosened and crooked. He looked the same as he ever did, except for the dark purple bruise along his left cheekbone, and the swollen, split lower lip.

Dean pushed up so that he was sitting on the bed, back resting against the headrest, and narrowed his eyes at Cas. "What the hell happened to you?" he snarled. And he honestly was concerned, because any time Cas got hurt he was concerned, but he was also pissed off that Cas had been stupid enough to get himself hurt in the first place. Maybe if he hadn't gone off on his own, he wouldn't have.

It was a ridiculous thought, and Dean was pissed at himself for even thinking it in the first place. Cas could more than take care of himself, Dean knew that, but lately Dean had been a little bit protective where Cas was concerned.

Cas frowned, and his tongue came out to lick over the cut on his lip, as if he hadn't realised until Dean pointed it out that there was something wrong. It was… distracting, and Dean swallowed.

"Sorry," Sam said to Cas, rolling his eyes. "Dean's… Dean. What he meant was, he was worried, and he wants to know if you're okay. And he missed you." He said the last part with a sarcastic smile in Dean's direction.

"No," Dean growled, looking at Sam. "What I meant was," he said again, and his eyes flicked back over to Cas. "What the hell happened to you?"

Cas once again tongued the corner of his mouth, and Dean had to clench his teeth together, hard, ball his hands up in fists at his sides to stop himself crossing the room and replacing Cas' tongue with his own, licking across the swollen flesh, cleaning up the tiny smears of blood.

"Trolls," he answered, succinctly, and that seemed to be all the explanation they were going to get. He tilted his head down to look directly at Dean, and his expression softened noticeably. "I'm fine."

Cas kept looking at him, and Dean found it really damn hard to look away, because Cas' eyes were fucking hypnotising when he wanted them to be. After an incredibly uncomfortable silence Dean heard Sam clear his throat, and he mentally thanked his brother, because that apparently broke the spell, and he turned his head slightly in Sam's direction.

"I'm gonna go grab us some food," he said, slipping into his jacket and grabbing his wallet off the dresser. "Sandwich?"

Dean nodded, and pulled one leg up, resting his arm on his knee. "Thanks. Coffee, too."

"Got it. Cas? You want anything?"

Cas just shook his head, once, but he didn't even glance at Sam, still studying Dean in a way that was sort of giving him the creeps and turning him on, all at once.

Sam shrugged, and shot Dean a look before leaving, that was sort of a combination of 'what the hell is his problem?' and 'the two of you deserve each other'.

As soon as the door shut behind him Sam, Cas started forward, slowly crossing the room with his eyes slightly narrowed and his head at that odd angle. Dean bit his lip and refused to meet his eyes, feeling like he was in some kind of trouble for something. It was fuckin' annoying. If anybody was in trouble here it was Cas. Cas was the one that had fucked off on him after sex, and then shown up a week later all black and blue.

When Cas reached the bed he sat down next to Dean, legs over the edge with his back to Dean his hips almost touching Dean's thigh, still lying flat on top of the bedspread. If anything, his look got more intense, and he leaned almost imperceptibly closer, and when he spoke, his voice was low and quiet. "What's wrong?"

"What?" Dean asked, jerking his head toward Cas, fingers twitching slightly on his knee. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. Which was a complete and total lie, that Cas easily saw right through.

"Dean…"

"Cas… nothing. Really. Just… long few days. We got our asses kicked pretty hard, and I'm just… tired. Sore. Wanna go back to sleep for a week." That, and the fact that he was still hurt over being ditched, but he knew he was being stupid about that, and it was probably best not to say anything.

Cas stared at him for another few seconds before nodding, but Dean could tell he wasn't convinced.

"So," Dean said, feeling somewhat awkward, which was so completely ridiculous, he didn't even know where to start making fun of himself. This was no big deal. This was him and Cas, they'd hung out plenty, had tonnes of conversations, had _sex_ for fuck's sake, and now Dean was feeling weird about just making small talk until Sam got back with food?

What the _hell_?

Cas just raised an eyebrow, and waited patiently for Dean to continue. Naturally.

"Where have you been?"

"Russia, mostly."

Dean snorted a little, and shook his head. He hadn't exactly expected Cas to go into a lot of detail, but Russia was a big place, and there was a lot of shit he could have gotten into there, and that still didn't answer the question of the trolls, but Dean figured that was the best answer he was going to get, so he left it. If Cas thought he should know something, Cas would tell him.

He let his eyes drift over Cas' face, really looking for the first time at his injuries. They weren't too bad, and they'd be gone within hours. Dean was torn between being angry that they'd been put there in the first place, and wanting to push Cas down and suck his lower lip into his mouth, bite down on it to renew the blood flow from the scabbed over cut.

Cas looked _hot_ when he was a little banged up. Badass.

Dean determinedly tamped down that inappropriate shiver of lust, and instead raised his hand, tips of two fingers tracing slowly over the bruise just below Cas' eye, his split lip. Cas didn't even flinch. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, sounding a little unsteady.

Cas let his eyes drift shut before he covered Dean's hand with his own, warm fingers curling around the back of Dean's hand and hooking over to rest on his palm. He left Dean's fingers over his mouth for a few breaths, and then opened his eyes again, lowering their hands to rest on Cas' knee, still joined.

"Are you sure _you_ are?" Cas countered.

Dean sighed, because Cas obviously knew him pretty well, and he was probably going to have to get used to talking about shit at some point, if Cas was going to be… you know… around. Not that Cas was much of a talker, thank God, but when the two of them did actually need to use their words, it was worse than talking with Sam.

Because this shit with Cas? Was embarrassing.

But sometimes you just needed to bite the bullet, and embrace your inner woman.

"You just… took off," he mumbled, and shrugged.

Cas pulled a face, one of those faces that told Dean very clearly that he was both annoyed and confused. "What are you talking about?"

And that sort of pissed him off. "Dude, come on. I know you don't know how this shit is supposed to work," Dean started, and really, when it came to whatever him and Cas had going, Dean didn't either. His sexual history was mostly a series of one night stands. He was figuring out this whole 'repeat performance' thing himself as they went along, but fuck, at least he was doing a better job than Cas was.

"But we'd just…" They'd just had some pretty great sex, Dean had given something to Cas, not only physically, but emotionally as well, and Cas had just… left him there. Hadn't contacted him for _days_. "Never mind. It's stupid."

Cas was still just looking at him, like he didn't quite get it, but wanted to, and Dean pulled his hand back, resting it awkwardly on his stomach. "I just thought you might be there when I woke up, is all."

Cas still looked puzzled, and if it wasn't so fucking irritating, it would almost be cute. "I had work to do."

"Yeah, but you could have said something, maybe. Like… I don't know… '_goodbye'_?"

"You were sleeping," Cas said, still with that annoyed, puzzled twist on his face. And then, like he was explaining something to a child, "Waking you up just to tell that I was leaving seemed counter-productive. It would have interrupted your rest, and I still would have been gone."

"Yeah, well, here's another tip, Cas. Sometimes, when a man and an angel really like each other, and they've just fucked each other senseless, the man likes to be warned before the angel fucks off and doesn't show up again for a week, without even a fucking phone call!"

Realisation very suddenly, and very humorously dawned, and Cas' eyes widened briefly, before his face softened into a slight, almost teasing smile. He reached out to grab Dean's hand again, and used his considerable strength to gently pull Dean up, so that he was leaning just as much toward Cas, as Cas was toward him.

"Did you… miss me, Dean?" he asked, barest hint of amusement in his words.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, and made a half-assed attempt to shake off Cas' hand, but Cas held him firm.

"I apologise," he said, more seriously, sincerely, his lips ghosting over Dean's, just barely touching, and Dean shivered, and leaned that much closer. Cas gave in, and kissed him then, nothing deep, or sloppy, just a simple kiss, that said everything Dean needed to hear.

"I can see how my actions may have seemed… cold. And I shouldn't have been gone for so long without speaking to you. It was not my intention to… blow you off."

Dean snorted and ran his thumb over Cas' forefinger. He was going to have a bitch of a time with Cas if one little kiss, and those fucking puppy eyes of his to rival Sam's, was enough for Dean to forget everything. He didn't even want to think about anything serious that he'd actually let Cas get away with, just because he couldn't stay mad at him.

He puffed out a breath, and his lips curled up at the corner when he looked down to where there hands were joined. "Yeah," he said, starting to grin. "You're kind of a shitty boyfriend."

Cas raised his eyebrows and smirked, and Dean looked up, and panicked. Shit. Shit, he did not just use the 'b' word. Fuck.

"I uh…" he stammered, licked his lips and tried to stay still, tried to not jump up and run screaming out of the room. "I didn't mean…"

"Of course not," Cas told him, placating, still smiling that damn smile.

"I didn't!" Dean protested, pulling a face, and Cas tilted his head, and actually fucking patted Dean on the knee. Like a fucking little kid. "Whatever," he grumbled, pushing Cas' hand away and getting up off the bed. "Shut up," he added, just before he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind himself to get ready to shower, even though Cas hadn't said anything.

Dean could tell by the pointedly amused silence, that he was going to.

Cas was _not_ his boyfriend. Not boyfriends.

Dean wasn't exactly sure what they were, but… not boyfriends.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13

***

It turned out, Dean didn't like giving head. Cas seemed to like it well enough though, even if just for the responses he got out of Dean by doing it, and Dean definitely liked getting it done to him, so it worked out.

Dean went first. In the front seat of the Impala in Oklahoma, while he and Cas waited for Sam to break into the local police station and copy some case files.

***

Five minutes passed, and Dean groaned, turned up the music and pushed back in the driver's seat, craning his neck from side to side, cracking it.

"Ugh. How much longer is he gonna take?" he complained, not actually expecting Cas to answer. He was never much for sitting back, waiting patiently.

"Considering the tasks at hand, and Sam's skill level compared the station's security," Cas began, surprising Dean by taking his question seriously. "I'd say at least another fifteen to twenty minutes. Provided he doesn't run into any problems."

Dean raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter, turned his head toward Cas. "Twenty minutes, huh?"

"It seems a reasonable estimate," Cas answered, brows drawn as he looked at Dean from the passenger seat.

Dean grinned and leaned across the seat, wrapped a hand around the back of Cas' neck and pulled him close. "Wonder what we could possibly do to pass the time." Time alone wasn't exactly in abundance, and Dean was totally not above getting a little in the car when they had a few spare minutes.

"I could," Cas began, and then Dean's mouth closed over his, hard and fast, teeth closing down over his lower lip, and tugging slightly, letting go before he soothed over the flesh with his tongue. Cas gasped, and jerked in his seat, shifted closer to Dean and placed his hand on Dean's thigh. "I could probably think of a few things."

"Just a few?" Dean teased, and he trailed a hand down from Cas' cheek, over his chest, and stomach, to land on the hardening bulge in Cas' pants. "We're gonna need to work on your imagination."

"Sex!" Cas squeaked, when Dean squeezed his erection, and pressed his lips to Cas' neck, sucking deep and hard over his pulse point. "We could have sex."

Dean chuckled and pulled back, but didn't release his hold on Cas' dick. "Sadly, I don't think that's an option right now, babe."

Cas stiffened, and shot Dean a look, no doubt at the bizarre pet name that had come out of absolutely nowhere. And honestly, it was weirding Dean out even more than it was Cas. Cas didn't really feel like a 'babe'.

"Uh… sorry. I was just tryin'… Yeah, never mind. I won't uh… Let's not do that."

"Agreed," Cas answered. "It sounded… wrong."

Dean mumbled a sound in the general vicinity of agreement, and shifted his hand up to pop the button on Cas' pants.

"I thought you said…"

"I said no _sex_," Dean told him, grinning wide. "I mean, come on Cas. We're in a police station parking lot, and it's not even fully dark yet. That doesn't mean we still can't have some fun." He waggled his eyebrows, and Cas laughed. Fucking _laughed_! Dean was certain for a full five seconds that he'd actually died, and gone to heaven this time.

Cas didn't protest as Dean worked his pants open, and stuffed his hand inside. Didn't complain when Dean pulled his hard cock out, started to pump it up and down as he worked his mouth over Cas' neck, his chin, his lips. Cas merely whimpered when Dean's thumb slid over the slit of his cockhead, picking up a small smear of pre-come, and spreading it around the head.

Cas groaned and bucked, hands clenching on Dean's leg, and arm, head thrown back and legs spread to give Dean all the access he could possibly need. But based on Cas' twitching, his inability to sit still and enjoy, his desperate, low keening, it wasn't enough.

"What, Cas?" Dean asked, voice dripping sex, straight into Cas' ear. "What do you need? Anything. Just tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Cas cried out and his body spasmed, mouth open wide and fingers tight. Oh yeah. Dean was so the man. He loved that he could do this to Cas, turn him into this, this quivering mess of an angel, when he was usually so cool, and put together. It made Dean heady with power, and he'd do anything to keep hold of that feeling, for both of them.

Cas' hand moved so fast Dean didn't even notice until it was gripping tight around his wrist, stopping his hand from moving any more on Cas' cock. It had moved a little _too_ fast, and Dean looked at Cas suspiciously.

"No fair using angel tricks during sex, Cas," Dean scolded.

"But this isn't _sex_, Dean," Cas countered, with as much of a grin as he could manage in his aroused state.

"Smartass," Dean muttered, and slid the hand that wasn't on Cas' dick across his chest, to pinch a nipple through his shirt. Hard.

Cas sucked in a breath and pushed his hips forward. "Please," he gasped. "Please, Dean. Your… your mouth," he said, and his hand on Dean's shoulder started to push him down, slowly but surely. "On me. Please."

Dean froze.

Yeah, okay, he'd kind of figured oral would come into play at some point, but he wasn't expecting it to be _now_. Really, it wasn't like they were rushing things, though. They'd already _fucked_ for crying out loud, so what was a blow job, really? A lot, Dean figured, because the idea of Cas' cock up his ass was one thing, but in his mouth was… something entirely different.

It wasn't that he didn't think Cas' dick was nice. It was. Probably. Not that Dean had much to compare it to. Or any. But he liked how it felt in his hand, inside his body. He just… Fuck, he didn't even know. It was scary. He didn't know what it would taste like, or what it would feel like. Didn't know if he'd even be able to do it right.

Oh, he had the general idea of what to do, given the sheer number of times it had been done to him, but that wasn't exactly the same.

Still, he really did want this to be part of his sex life with Cas, and if Cas wanted it now, he'd give it to him. It couldn't be that bad, and at least it would be over and done with, and he'd know what to expect next time. Also, after this he wouldn't feel bad about getting Cas to reciprocate. Soon, and often.

He nodded and licked his lips, more in concentration than in desire, and let Cas push him down. "Yeah," he breathed as he crouched down, one hand splayed out on Cas' thigh, the other gripping the base of his cock to angle it slightly away from his body. "Anything, Cas."

He swallowed, and gave the head an experimental lick, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up there on his tongue. Cas sucked in a breath above him, and his hands shot straight to Dean's head, fingers carding through his hair, but not holding him, not forcing him. Which was good, because Dean would have let him, but he wouldn't have been thrilled with it. If he was gonna do this, he wanted to at least be in control. It looked like Cas got that.

It didn't taste _bad_, exactly, but it was probably more of an acquired taste. Not something he liked right off the bat, but fuck, he didn't see how anybody could, and yet there were people out there who loved it, so it must be one of the things you could learn to like, given enough time and motivation.

Cas didn't really taste all that different than Dean did. Because yeah, Dean had tasted himself, quite a few times, and while it had never done anything for him, personally, some chicks thought that was hot, and Dean aimed to please.

He opened his mouth wider and let the tip of Cas' cock slide past his lips, closed them around the head and gave a gentle suck. He had to pull back a little when Cas snapped his hips forward, and the angel mumbled an apology, fingers rubbing against Dean's scalp.

He slowly worked his way up to taking in more, alternating the sucking with licks up and down the shaft, kisses, and swirls of his tongue around the head. He wasn't particularly enjoying himself. Cas sure as fuck seem to be though, tiny little moans escaping him, ragged breathing and fingers twitching through Dean's hair almost enough to overcome the sheer unpleasantness of giving head, and get Dean hard.

Almost.

Again, maybe it was something they could work on, something he could get used to, and even start to enjoy.

But not today, that was for sure.

By the time Cas' hips started to jerk erratically, tiny little thrusts up and down, and he started to mumble incoherently, his balls drawn up tight against his body in the palm of Dean's hand, Dean had almost gotten Cas' entire dick in his mouth. There was still a couple of inches at the bottom that wouldn't fit, not without some finesse, and Dean was just not going to go there, not this time, because he did _not_ see how that could be pleasant. At all.

He should really think about sending some ex's a fruit basket, or something.

"Dean," Cas panted, fingers clenching and unclenching on the back of his head. "Oh, God, _Dean_. Love you. I love you."

Dean didn't react to that, because really, it wasn't like he was expected to stop giving head so he could pointedly ignore the comment, so he just… kept going, and ignored the comment. It wasn't that he _didn't_ love Cas, he just… he wasn't sure. Or, he was a great big fuckin' chicken, but whatever. Cas didn't seem to mind him not saying it back.

Especially when Dean sucked harder, his tongue putting a strong upward pressure on the underside of Cas' cock, and his hand gripped the base gently.

"Please!" Cas cried, and his hips jerked, his body tight with the effort of holding still. "I am… I'm…"

And then Dean realised, much too late, that he was going to have to swallow. Yeah, he really should have thought this through a little better. He didn't have any paper towel, or anything within easy reach to catch Cas' spunk in, and he couldn't exactly let him spew all over himself. Not with Sam coming back any minute.

Fuck. He took a breath through his nose and closed his eyes, gave Cas' balls a gentle squeeze, and sucked extra hard on the shaft in his mouth, to let him know to go ahead and finish. Cas cried out and bucked, and a second later, Dean' mouth was flooded with warm, bitter fluid.

Cas managed to hold himself back from forcing his way down Dean's throat, which was awesome, but the whole thing, the unpleasant taste, more full, more pungent than the pre-come, the bizarre texture of it, the way it slipped over his teeth and tongue, it all made him gag a little as he swallowed it.

He waited for Cas to stop jerking, waited for his fingernails to stop digging into Dean's skull, softly sucking him through it, before he pulled off, licked up the little dribbles that had escaped down the shaft, and sat back in his seat, making a face.

"That was… satisfying," Cas told him after a slight pause, and Dean snickered, ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth. Shit, he needed some mouth wash or something. And the commendation could have been a little more glowing that 'satisfying'. Oh well. It wasn't like Dean could be a master at everything.

"Glad you thought so, Cas."

Cas frowned, and pushed his softening cock back inside his underwear. "It was unpleasant for you."

"It wasn't great," Dean agreed. "But I think it'll just take some getting used to."

"I don't want to do things with you that don't enjoy, Dean," Cas said, and his tone was almost annoyed, like Dean was being scolded for not getting off on sucking his dick. Fuck, Cas was one of a fucking kind. "Would you prefer that I didn't… return the favour, at some point?"

Dean's face pinched and his nostrils flared, and he looked at Cas hard, pointing at his chest. "Oh, you are _definitely_ returning the favour at some point, pal."

Cas smiled then, slow and small, and Dean scowled, but he lunged forward and pulled Cas into a kiss. Deep, with wide open mouths, and lots and lots of tongue, pushing the remnants of Cas' flavour into his mouth. The angel didn't seem even the least bit put off by the taste though. In fact, he put his hand on the back of Dean's neck, pressing them closer, swept his tongue over Dean's teeth, the inside of his cheeks, trying to get more.

Now okay, _that_ was kind of hot. Almost made it worth it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught the back door of the station opening, and he swore, and pulled back, as Sam walked out, and headed toward the car.

"Wha…" Cas started, sounding a little dazed, because yeah, Dean was just that good.

"Sammy," Dean explained, and nodded behind Cas. Cas turned, and Sam was somehow _right there_, opening up the back door, and fuck, the dude was fast. Either that, or Dean and Cas were just really slow at the moment. Dean smacked Cas on the leg and glared at his crotch, pants still open and shirt an un-tucked mess.

Cas looked momentarily chagrined, and immediately got to work fastening his pants (and sure, now he decided to do it the human way, instead of just blinking himself back to rights), as Dean wiped the corner of his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. Because he had Cas' spit there. Nothing else, just spit. He wanted to make that clear, even if just to himself.

"Oh, dude, gross," Sam groaned from the back seat, and Dean saw him look from him to Cas and back again in the rearview mirror. It was so obvious what they'd been doing, it wasn't even funny. Shit. "You couldn't wait 'til we got back to the room?"

Dean turned the car on and slammed it into reverse before Sam had had a chance to fasten his seat belt, smiling to himself when he was thrown forward against Cas' seat.

"See Cas, _that_ would have been a good time for some angel mojo," Dean hissed, and drove them back to the motel, making a point of avoiding Sam's smirking face in the mirror.

***

When Cas blew Dean a few days later, in the bathroom of a truck stop off I-90, Dean liked that a hell of a lot better.

***

They stopped for something to eat on the way back from Lewiston, NY, where they'd met up with a small group of hunters to stop a bunch of Satan worshipers from opening up another Devil's gate. Turned out, they'd gotten their orders to do so directly from Lucifer, in the flesh, but he'd blown town before Dean and Sam and Cas had gotten there.

They'd managed to permanently seal the gate, or as permanently as they knew how, anyway, and they'd also gained some potential allies they didn't know they'd had. So after a round of drinks, and the exchanging of some phone numbers, the three had gotten in the car, and started for Bobby's.

They'd been driving for hours, and it was way too late to call whatever meal they were eating 'supper', since it was almost midnight, but at places like this, where the customers spent most of their days and nights driving across the country and ate and slept whenever they could fit it in, 'meal time' didn't have much meaning.

They ate at a corner table, Cas and Dean on one side, and Sam across from them, and while Sam told some lame joke or other, and Cas almost smiled at it, Dean popped a carrot stick in his mouth. It wasn't the best, but when he dunked it in the blue cheese dip that came with his wings, it wasn't the worst either. And at least he was eating vegetables! The main part of his meal was still deep fried calories, and he'd sworn to try to get off the steady intake of fat and cholesterol after the whole aging fifty years in an hour thing, but hey, baby steps.

Dean was almost relaxed here like this, with Sam and Cas, after a job well done, with some pretty decent food, but he was still a hunter, and he couldn't possibly curb his need to keep an eye out, even if he'd wanted to. A quick once over of the place didn't reveal anything or anyone that might be a danger to them, which was a nice relief, even if he hadn't expected anything.

What he also hadn't expected, was some boy, sitting a few tables over with two other boys, and one girl, and looking their way, looking Cas' way.

Okay, so he wasn't a _boy_, exactly, but he couldn't have been older than 18, and Dean tensed, the smooth motion of his turning head jerking to a stop to stare at the guy through narrowed eyes. He was skinny, kind of lanky, but didn't look overly tall, not like Sam had been when he was that age. And he was sort of attractive, Dean supposed, and he was staring at Cas, eyes all hungry and dark, smirking and licking his lips, fucking _winking_ when Cas turned his head to find out what had caught Dean's gaze.

Dean let his eyes flicker over to Cas for a moment, saw him lower his eyes, and damn near blush at the attention, and Dean ground his teeth together, not-so-casually lifting his arm to rest over the seat behind Cas, his hand landing possessively on Cas' shoulder. He glared at the kid, hard and blustering, telling him 'Get your own hot gay angel, Chuckles, this one's taken,' with just a look.

Cas went rigid beside him for a split second, and he heard Sam breath out a sigh of exasperation. He turned, narrowed eyes on Sam, and shook his head, quirking a brow like he had no idea what Sam's problem was.

"Oh my God, dude, relax," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "He's like, twelve. I really don't think you have anything to worry about."

Dean looked at Sam, half annoyed, half like Sam had just kicked his puppy, and then scowled. "'M not worried," he grumbled, but he snuck a look back over to the kid, anyway.

His widened eyes locked on Dean's briefly before he looked away, turning his attention back to his friends, and his food. Dean hid a grin, thinking the kid had obviously gotten the message, but then the kid picked up his soda bottle and brought it to his mouth, licked the rim of it so obscenely that even Dean started to get a little hard, and felt a slight tremor go through Cas' leg.

Dean scowled once more at the kid, even though he wasn't looking at their table anymore, and pulled Cas just a bit closer.

"Oh, for…" Sam complained, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few bills on the table. "Dean, if you're finished marking your territory, can we get going?"

Dean grinned a wide grin and looked over to Sam, eyes shining. "Jealous," he told his brother happily, because Dean had someone now, really had someone, for the first time in ever, and he honestly didn't mind Sam making fun of him. He knew Sam was only fucking around, knew that really, he was happy for him, and even though they were facing the end of the world, Dean felt _good_.

"Dean? Bobby's gonna wonder where we are."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean sighed. "Give me a minute. Gotta go wash up," he said, sticking a thumb into his mouth and sucking off the wing sauce, before letting it go with a loud 'pop'. Wings were tasty, but messy as hell.

Sam just looked at him expectantly, and he bobbed his head happily, pushing past Cas, and went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

***

"Excuse me," Castiel said to Sam, with a polite nod of his head, after Dean had rounded the corner to the hall that led to the restrooms.

Sam raised an eyebrow up to his hairline, and barely suppressed a smirk, but just tilted his head, and gestured with his hand for Cas to go ahead and follow after Dean.

That Sam knew the reason for Castiel going after Dean was slightly embarrassing, and caused his cheeks to pinken slightly, but it was of little consequence. They weren't actually in a hurry to get to Bobby's house, and Sam still had an entire coffee to finish, regardless of his words to Dean about leaving. And it wasn't as if Sam hadn't known before, when they'd fornicated.

Castiel couldn't help himself. It had been days since he'd felt Dean's touch, since he'd touched Dean. And Dean's closeness just now, his territorial behaviour, much as Castiel knew it shouldn't, made him want.

He snuck in through the flimsy wood door, silent as it swung softly on its hinges, and walked toward Dean, who was drying his hands under the rusted white metal of the air drying on the wall next to the bathroom's single stall. Dean did not appear to notice him, and Castiel took shameless advantage of that fact.

"You did not think I had any interest in that boy," Castiel said, sliding up behind Dean unseen, and pressing him hard into the wall, hands resting against yellow cinderblock, caging Dean in. It wasn't a question. Despite Dean's near crippling insecurity at times, one thing he was not, was stupid.

Castiel was feeling… oddly playful, and much to his delight, Dean seemed willing to play along.

"Dunno," he said, looking over his shoulder, and doing a poor job at hiding a grin. "He was pretty cute, a lot younger than me. Probably more spry, better recovery time and all that." He shrugged, and then shivered when Castiel pushed forward, pressing his hardening cock against the crack of Dean's ass. "Now that you know all about sex, you might be looking to trade up."

"There is no 'up' Dean," Castiel told him, almost growling into Dean's ear, his low words breezing over the whorls and sending shivers down Dean's spine. "Not from you. You are the most magnificent creature I have ever encountered."

Dean canted his hips and pushed back against him, and his breath caught as Castiel's hand came down to cover one of Dean's at his side, fingers interlocking. "Really?" Dean asked, breathless, but amused. "You really like me best?"

It was with a sharp stab to his chest that Castiel realised that while Dean was playing, there was a part of him that was honestly, truly concerned that he was undeserving of Castiel's affections, his lusts. A part that was worried that he would not measure up, and Castiel would leave him.

It was so preposterous a notion that Castiel wanted to laugh, but instead he closed his other arm around Dean's waist and spun him, pressed Dean's back to the wall, and licked up the front of his throat with one swipe of his tongue, then up under his jaw, to end just below his right earlobe. "I like you _only_, Dean," he told him, with so much force, so much sincerity, that the ground shook beneath them. "Always."

Dean gasped, and his jaw twitched, his body wracked with the intensity of Castiel's declaration, but, true to form, he attempted a smirk, eyes closing halfway as he licked his lips, and tried to play it off like it was nothing. "I'm still feelin' a little unsure here, Cas," he said, voice slightly shaky. "Maybe you could… you know… show me. Just how much you like me."

"Anything," Castiel told him, and sunk to his knees.

He made quick work of Dean's pants, opening them and pushing them and his underwear down enough to free his half-hard dick, and Castiel wasted no time. He opened his mouth wide, and leaned in, closed his lips around the base of Dean's cock and sucked, moaning slightly at the sensation of Dean growing to full hardness inside his mouth.

"Fuck, _Cas_," Dean hissed, and his hands slapped, hard and quick, on the wall behind him. "Shit!"

The feeling of Dean in his mouth was… good. It was better than good, made him feel full, and wanted. _Powerful_. He had power over Dean, could force those soft, mewling sounds of pleasure from him, those full-bodied shudders, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his fists as he fought the urge to grab at Castiel, to force his need on him.

It was a heady feeling, and the taste, the texture, the sensation of the thick organ sliding over and over his tongue, as he worshiped Dean… Yes, this was _definitely_ good.

He wondered, briefly, what it would feel like for Dean to take him another way, hold him down and make love to him, force his way inside and show Castiel that he was loved, needed. He would have to bring it up at some point. Ask Dean if he would be willing.

He pulled back so that just Dean's tip was still in his mouth, and relaxed his suction, licking around the slit at the head with his tongue, and when Dean cried out, bucked forward, completely out of control, Castiel felt himself grow harder in his pants, and he closed his eyes, groaned low and long, and sunk back down, taking Dean in all the way.

His nose was buried in Dean's pubic hair, and it choked him, cut off his air supply, ticked uncomfortably. If he'd been human, he no doubt would have needed much more practice to be able to tolerate this, and he suddenly understood what Dean had found so off-putting about the act.

Castiel wasn't put off, not in the least, but then, he was different. He didn't mind not being able to breathe, didn't mind his throat stuffed full, because he had no fear of suffocating. Most of all, he didn't mind, because it was _Dean_.

He mumbled something around the hard shaft in his mouth, didn't expect Dean to understand it, because there weren't any actual words behind the sound. It was just meant in affirmation, a signal that he was alright, and that Dean could keep going, do as he pleased, and Castiel would willingly take anything he could give.

He'd never done this before, and therefore didn't have the necessary skills to make this as good as either of them would have liked, and as Sam was waiting outside for them, he didn't have the time to go slowly and figure things out, to worship Dean like the man deserved, to learn what pleased him most.

And that would all come, but later. For now all he could do was suction his mouth, lick clumsily, swallow around Dean's tip. He knew this needed to be quick, and he could feel the strain in Dean's body from trying to go slow, take it easy on Castiel, but again, there would be time for that later.

His hands moved from Dean's thighs, up and over his hips, and pushed them forward, slamming Dean's cock further into his mouth, and Dean squeaked. It was endearing, the sound, and Castiel would have smiled. He moved Dean's hips back, and then helped them to snap forward once more before letting go, and reaching to grab both of Dean's hands, pulling them forward and placing them on the back of his head.

He gave them a meaningful squeeze and forced Dean to push his head forward. Dean whimpered, and that sound was much more than endearing. It was bliss.

"Cas," Dean gasped, and took the hint, letting Castiel's hands slip out from under his. He kept a light grip on his head, and worked him back and forth, his hips moving in counter-rhythm to his hands, and Castiel's head. "Oh, fuck, Cas. So fucking _good_."

Castiel moaned around Dean's cock, and his own pulsed warmly between his legs. Dean used him, used his mouth and mumbled vague praises, and when he sped up, the sharp jerking of his hips getting even sharper, the fingers resting gently on the back of his skull digging in harshly, Castiel knew what was coming even before Dean warned him.

"Cas…" he said, soft and breathy, sounding almost desperate. "I'm gonna come. You might want to…"

But he didn't release Castiel's head, his hips didn't stop moving, and he was still practically choking the angel with his dick. Which was fine by Castiel, because he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. Not everybody liked to catch their partner's release in their mouth, but Dean had done it for him, and Castiel was curious.

He let his fingers trail down over the fronts of Dean's thighs, and then rested his hands on them, palms flat, and using just a bit of pressure, let Dean know that it was okay, and then Dean went completely still, let out a quiet grunt, and Castiel's mouth was flooded with the tanginess of Dean's come.

One, two quick thrusts forward of Dean's hips, and then Dean's hand suddenly gripped tighter in his hair, yanked him back forcefully so that his dick slipped free, and Dean gripped it by the base, held it away from his body and pointed toward Castiel's angled face.

He managed to swallow most of Dean's spend, though the rough jerk of his head had cause some to spill out of his mouth, over his lips and down his chin. Dean sucked in a sharp breath, and Castiel looked up at him just in time for Dean's cock to give one final pulse, a tiny blob of sticky white fluid dribbling out over the head. They both groaned when Dean leaned forward just a little bit, to rub his cock against Castiel's cheek, painting him, marking him, with his come.

Castiel remained still until he felt Dean relax, and slump back against the wall, and then he carefully leaned in, taking Dean back in his mouth, licking at Dean's shaft, and the head, as he went, delighting when he felt it twitch under his ministrations. He pulled off after several seconds and sat back on his heels, then looked up at Dean, chest heaving slowly and eyes glossy and hooded.

Castiel had enjoyed that. He hoped to do it again, and often. And not only because Dean had very clearly enjoyed it as well.

Dean's hand started to slip from the back of Castiel's head, but instead of dropping to his sides, it went, along with the other, to softly cup his face, thumbs stroking back and forth over his cheekbones, the pad of one thumb perfunctorily cleaning up the mess he'd made, as Dean looked down at him.

"Cas, you look…" he started, and for a second, Castiel thought he was about to fuck his mouth again, he looked so debauched and intense. Then he snorted a sharp laugh and shook his head, dipped one thumb between Castiel's lips, feeding him more of his come, and groaned, amused and frustrated sounding when Castiel sucked it all the way in. "Fuck," Dean hissed.

Castiel let Dean's thumb slip free and smiled when he let him go completely, reaching down to tuck himself back into his pants and fasten them up. He reached up with his own thumb to wipe the dribble from his chin, and licked it off, eyes fluttering as he sucked.

"If you insist," Castiel told him, eyes shining and still looking up at Dean from the dirty bathroom floor. "But we'll have to be quick. Sam is waiting."

Dean laughed, a deep and happy sound, and Castiel felt warm all over. He reached his hand out and Castiel took it, letting Dean pull him to his feet, and into Dean's arms. He let Dean kiss him, kissed Dean back, tongue tracing the sharp edges of Dean's teeth and pressing against Dean's own tongue.

He felt one of Dean's hand snake its way over his shoulder and down his front, stopping to palm Castiel's erection. "You want me to…" he said, and trailed off, moving his hand, up and down over the bulge, making it clear that he would be very willing to take Castiel out, and bring him to completely with his hand on Castiel's bare cock.

But Castiel shook his head, eyes and lips soft, and pressed one more kiss to Dean's mouth. "I'm fine," he told him. And he was. He was aroused, certainly, and he did crave Dean's touch. But he didn't need to orgasm right now. He found he liked the pleasant buzz, the thrum of anticipation through his body. Even the ebb of desire was nice, when no release was forthcoming, that he'd experienced the few times he'd thought about Dean in a sexual context in his absence.

"Later," Dean said, nodding. "I promise."

"I love you, Dean," Castiel told him, and he wasn't surprised, or even disappointed, when Dean only smiled, and kissed him.

"Let's go," Dean said. "Sam's waiting."

The boy from earlier was staring at them when they left the bathroom, envious and lustful, but Dean didn't even notice.

***

They only managed to have actual sex again once in the next couple of weeks, and when they did, Dean rode Cas in the backseat of the Impala while Sam slept, oblivious, in their room. It was fucking hot.

And despite all the hotness, and the amazing orgasms, Dean sort of felt like his dick was getting cold.

It wasn't like Cas wasn't a great lay, 'cause he was, but… Dean had never ever before been a position where he wasn't the one doing the penetrating. Straight sex was simple like that, and Dean was gaining a whole new appreciation for it.

And it was stupid, but… he wanted something more. Wanted to _drive_, because he was learning to love coming with Cas' cock up his ass, holy fuck, was he ever, but he also needed, like full-on _needed_, like he might stop breathing if he didn't get it, to stuff Cas full.

Good fucking Lord, what his angel would look like, underneath him, spread wide and begging for it…

It was gonna happen. And soon.

And he might or might not be willing to wait until Cas let him know he was ready for it, but probably not. Because he was a man, and he was gonna take what he wanted.

And he'd make Cas _love_ it. He was just that awesome.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14 - Only one more to go!

***

Dean had been lying there in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to Sam's snoring, and considering jerking off, when his phone had chirped at him. He considered ignoring it, in favour of jerking off, but he checked it anyway. It could have been important. His annoyed frown turned into a smile, when he saw it was a text message from Cas.

_What are you wearing?_

Dean stifled his laughter, not wanting to wake Sam, and sent him a message back.

_Jonesville, Mississippi. Sawmill Motel. Room 204. Car's outside._

He knew better than to actually think that Cas was the least bit interested in what he was wearing, but he knew a booty call when he was hit with one. Cas was coming along nicely.

By the time he'd thrown on some pants, his boots and his coat, and gotten down the stairs to the parking lot, Cas was already in his baby's backseat, sitting right in the middle, casually leaning against the backrest, legs splayed and hands resting on his thighs. He wasn't nearly as cocky as he appeared, Dean wasn't that dumb, but they both knew Dean was a sure thing, at this point. And Dean was finding that he _really_ liked it when it was Cas who was making the first move.

He climbed into the car, climbed over Cas, and things went pretty quickly from there.

Dean opened Cas' pants, worked them down and over his hips while he kissed him, mouth insistent and wide over Cas', teeth nipping at his lips. Cas' hands went to Dean's waist, and Dean helped him, unfastened his jeans and pushed them down, shifting awkwardly when they got to his spread thighs, and climbed off Cas enough to work them down his legs and off, before he was right back on top of Cas again, cocks grinding against each other, and driving Dean crazy.

"What made you call?" Dean asked, mouth pressing a series of kisses from just under Cas' ear, along his jaw, and up to his mouth. "Not a 'life or death thing', I hope." Cas wasn't much for social calls usually, and even when he was, he liked to show up with some sort of excuse.

"I'm fairly certain I won't die if I don't have sex with you, Dean."

Dean snickered. "Could you maybe pretend you would?" he asked, smirking. "It would do wonders for my ego."

Cas opened his mouth and pushed Dean's head down, eating him up in an almost violent kiss. "The desire to bury myself inside you is almost overwhelming," Cas told him, and sure, his phrasing could use some work, but the shaky, nervously excited tone it was delivered in, made up for it. Besides, Dean actually believed him, which really, did a lot more for him than some bullshit sexy talk would have done.

And hey, Dean was totally up for that shit. He knew how good it was, and when he felt Cas' cock rubbing up against his own, hard and thick and leaking… Dean wanted it inside him.

He lifted up, pushed forward, and briefly wished that he'd been thinking enough to bring down the lube that he'd bought a while ago, before mentally shrugging, and started to lower himself, started ease Cas in. It hurt. Again. But of course it would have. It was practically dry, only Cas' pre-come to smooth the way, and Dean hadn't taken Cas inside in weeks. Cas grabbed his hips, and started to push him down, at the same time he lifted his own hips up, just wanting to get deeper inside.

"Fuck!" Dean shouted. "Fuck, Cas, slow the fuck down! Dude…" He tried to relax his tense body, tried to loosen up the hold his anus had on Cas' cock, halfway down, and then Cas froze. He stopped, hands on Dean's hips, and looked at him, and waited.

"It's cool," Dean promised him. "I want to do this. Just… Let me set the pace, okay?"

Cas nodded, and his grip loosened.

Dean took a breath, started to lower himself again, kissed Cas. Long, and sound, and didn't let his mouth go until Dean had sunk down on him completely, until he'd slowly lifted and lowered himself a dozen more times, until he was loose enough for Cas to start pounding up into him, again and again, and until they were both more that halfway to finished.

When Dean pulled back, gasping for air, he only had to mutter a few dirty words, pull himself a handful of times, and they were both coming, one after the other. It would have been embarrassing how quick it was, if it didn't feel so damn good.

"I love you," Cas told him.

Dean kissed his temple. "Let's get some sleep," Dean said.

If Cas was disappointed, he didn't show it. "This space is… cramped."

"I meant in the room," Dean told him, his voice light with humour.

Cas nodded, and the next thing Dean knew, they were back in the room, fully dressed, and curled around each other, with Sam sleeping away in the next bed.

Awesome.

Mostly.

Honestly, he'd sort of (well, okay, more than just sort of) wanted to get inside Cas, and he'd kind of hoped it would happen tonight. Or, well, not tonight exactly, because he didn't even know Cas was going to stop by, but… the next time they did it, he was just sort of thinking he'd get to do the fucking.

Not that it wasn't awesome the way it happened, but frankly, he'd give his Goddamn left nut to be able to sink into that perfect fucking ass of Cas', to feel the tight ring of muscle he'd only ever felt with the tip of a finger so far, clenching down around his cock and pulling his orgasm from him.

Cas was a thing of beauty, and Dean was nothing if not appreciative.

He just wasn't sure if Cas wanted it, and he was almost afraid to ask. Which, yeah, stupid. He knew that. When Cas asked him, all he'd had to say was his name, and Dean had given in. And he knew Cas would give Dean anything he wanted, he just... This was still on the new side, and he didn't want to rock the boat.

It wasn't like Dean had a problem with taking it. Far fucking from it, now that they were starting to get the hang of it, and what they were doing had been working, so far.

Until another two weeks went by, with Cas blowing him in the dark, him jerking Cas off on the bed while Sam showered, and the forces of Hell hot on their heels. Dean was feeling the increasing need to blow off steam, the longer Lucifer was out there, and they couldn't find him, couldn't stop him, couldn't do anything. He was feeling impotent in a way that had nothing to with sex, but he needed some kind of control over something, needed to _fuck_ something. He needed to let go, and pound into something, and it was driving him fucking crazy.

But mostly, he just wanted Cas. Wanted to show him, the way Cas had shown Dean, that he was wanted, treasured and loved, and fucking lusted after, in a way Dean had never experienced before. Needed to show him, with his actions, because the words didn't seem to want to come.

***

They had a rough day. Rufus had called, said he needed some help with a coven of witches in Grand Rapids, so they'd gone to help. Dean had complained the whole time, naturally, about how disgusting witches were, and while Sam agreed with him, wholeheartedly, he wasn't as much of a baby about a little bit of blood and some very old teeth.

They got knocked around some, but not as much as usual. What made the hunt rough, was that before they'd managed to find and destroy the source of the coven's power, one of the bitches had cast a spell on them. All three of them. And they'd all kind of… fallen in love with her.

They'd just about managed to kill each other, in the hopes that the survivor would win her over, and they'd all done some seriously embarrassing things. Rufus begged, and offered to be her slave. Sam bought flowers. _A lot_ of flowers. And cried. And Dean… Dean recited poetry. Sam didn't even think Dean _knew_ any poetry.

In any case, the day sucked, and now Dean and Sam were letting off some much needed steam, by sitting in a crowded bar and drinking away their embarrassment.

They'd already had four rounds, and they hadn't said much to each other, both feeling pretty stupid about everything that had happened. When you hold a gun to your brother's head, and he knees you in the balls, all during a heated exchange on which one of them was best equipped to sexually satisfy a two hundred year old which, small talk was kind of unnecessary.

It wasn't a problem, though. They'd get drunk, and they'd bitch at each other over something stupid just to release the tension, and then everything would be back to normal. It wasn't like they hadn't been through worse. Much worse.

But that was in the past, for the most part, and things were pretty good now. There was still some tension at times, of course there was, and would be for a while, but… They were at the point now where Sam was positive they would get over it, that he'd be fully forgiven, if not today, or tomorrow, then at least at some point. Not too long ago, he'd really thought, and Dean had really thought, that they'd never get there.

So a little thing like trying to kill each other wasn't even a blip, at this point. They were cool.

Dean was so cool, in fact, that he was currently drooling into his glass while he stared at some girl over by the pool tables, looking down her top as she bent over to make a shot. He was staring so intently, in fact, that Sam figured Dean probably thought her tits had beer on tap. He wanted to fuck her, that much was obvious. And just a few weeks ago, he'd already be halfway to scoring.

Dean had been edgy lately, aside from the day's events, and the way Dean was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he was considering getting out of it, and possibly walking across the bar to hit on the girl, made Sam uneasy. It wasn't really his business who Dean wanted to fuck, but… Of, fuck it, yes it was. Since he'd first opened his mouth, started meddling and pushing Dean and Cas together, it became his business.

Whatever the fuck was going on with Dean, to make him think that getting with this chick was actually a good idea, was bullshit. And if Dean did it, he was going to regret it.

"Dean?" Sam said, and his brother either didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him. Sam sighed and watched Dean shift again, and lick his lips when the girl stretched across the table, showing off her ass. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean grumbled, swilling his barstool around back to Sam, and taking a sip of his beer.

Sam pulled a face, and looked pointedly at the girl, then back to Dean. "Am I interrupting something?"

"What?" Dean asked again, only this time he sounded genuinely confused. He turned his head to look where Sam had just looked, and then smiled a little. "Yeah, she's hot," he said, and Sam huffed, screwed up his face.

"Jesus, Sam, relax. I'm wasn't gonna…" Dean started, and then decided that offence was the best defence. Typical. "And dude… what the fuck, man? I don't have to answer to you."

"No," Sam agreed, slowly dragging out the word. "But whether you like it or not, you _do_ have to answer to Cas now." Dean looked at him like he had no idea what he was talking about, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, he's your… whatever. And I know you, man. You're not _that guy_. You'd never want to hurt Cas like that."

"You know what?" Dean snapped. "Maybe you should get _yourself_ laid for once. Then you wouldn't be so interested in _my_ sex life!"

Yeah, maybe he should. And maybe he would, eventually, but after the whole thing with Ruby, Sam was taking a break from girls, for a while. He just raised an eyebrow, and waited Dean out. It wasn't even five seconds, and another shot of Jager, before it paid off.

"Yeah," Dean said, blowing out a breath and shaking his head. "Sorry, yeah, I know. I just… Dude, I fuckin' _really_ need to get laid."

"What? Dean, you saw Cas two days ago. And I _know_ you guys were fooling around, 'cause when I got back from the store with _your_ stupid pie, his fucking tie was on the doorknob."

"Heh," Dean chuckled, nodding to himself like he was proud. "Yeah, that was awesome."

"I didn't think so! I had to wait out in the car for twenty minutes, and it was fucking cold out there, Dean."

"Sorry," Dean apologised, but he was still grinning.

"So anyway, two days isn't exactly a dry spell, so what gives?" Sam asked, nodding absently to the girl Dean had been checking out.

Dean sighed. "It's just that I… We haven't…" He trailed off, and sighed again, jittery and uncomfortable. "Okay, you know what? Just never mind. I can't talk about this shit with my _brother_."

Sam frowned, studying Dean carefully, and thought for a moment about everything he knew about his brother, and Cas, and their relationship. About Dean's need for control, and his problems with vulnerability, and how fast things had been moving with Cas. That, added to the few things he'd seen and heard, first hand about their sex life, and he thought maybe he got it.

"Ah, I see," he said, smirking, and turning away from Dean, to pick up another carrot stick from his the appetizer plate they were sharing, and pop it in his mouth.

"See what?" Dean asked, suspiciously.

"All the lingering tension between you two. Oh, don't get me wrong," Sam quickly added, when Dean looked like he was about to argue. "It's not obvious. Hell, I don't even think Cas realises it. But there's just been something off about you lately. Like, even though you're happy, and pretty much constantly getting some, you're still always just a little bit grouchy. Even though you've got sex on tap if you want it, you're checking out the sluttiest looking girl in here, because she looks like the type who would let you do anything you wanted. I get it."

"Dude, I am not in the mood for your Dr. Phil shit today. So either spit it out, or shut up."

Sam couldn't possibly hide his grin, though he did try, because this shit was just too damn good. "Dean, you know I'm really happy that you and Cas finally hooked up. He's obviously good for you, and being together makes things easier, better, for both of you. But you're kind of tense about something, and I'm thinking it's because so far, you've strictly been on the receiving end of things."

He'd noticed even after that first time, that Dean had been walking funny on a couple of occasions, and that time in the car, Dean had obviously been going down on Cas. It made sense that Dean was feeling tense because he hadn't had the chance to prove his manhood or some bullshit like that, that Dean would think was important.

"Dude!"

"Ha!" Sam barked, and grinned. "I'm _so_ right! Well, maybe if you ask nice, he'll let you be on top once in a while, and your manly ego will be secured once more." Sam knew that wasn't the whole of it. Part of it, sure. Dean probably did feel like his masculinity was hurting, because giving it up like that was definitely something new for him, but there was obviously more.

Dean had some pretty serious control issues, especially after hell, and Sam had honestly been shocked that he would ever let Cas do… whatever Cas had done, and Sam was so going to have to detox his brain with pictures of sweet little kittens, and lollipops and balloons after thinking this shit about his brother.

Anyway, it said a lot about how Dean really felt about Cas. There was obviously a lot of trust there, on both sides.

"I can't believe how much I hate you," Dean muttered, and brought his glass of beer to his lips, taking a huge gulp.

"No, you love me," Sam smiled. "You're just too pussy to admit you're the girl in your relationship."

"Fuck off, man! I'm not even gay!"

"Okay, setting aside for the moment that you've been sleeping with a man for over a month now, you do realise that getting fucked by a guy, and fucking a guy are equally gay, right? And doing one instead of the other doesn't make you a girl." Sam smiled slyly, before adding, "It's your pretty, pretty eyelashes that do that."

"Have I mentioned what an awesome brother you are?" Dean asked, all sarcasm and scowling through narrowed eyes.

"You don't have to," Sam answered happily. "You say it all with your eyes."

Dean's face tightened for a brief flash, and then levelled out again, and Sam swore he saw the corner of his mouth pull up just a little before he hid it behind a frown. "Shut the fuck up, and let's get drunk," he said. "I recited fucking _Shakespeare_ today. I need it."

***

When they got back to their room, it was after two in the morning, and they were hammered. Sam went straight for the bathroom to piss, his bladder close to bursting from the mass quantities of alcohol they'd consumed that night. Dean had decided to take care of that little problem of his own on the way back, stumbling into an alley, and pissing on the side of a dumpster, while Sam bitched at him, and told him he was gross, and he was going to get arrested.

Dean however, thought it was excellent foresight. Because now, while Sam was groping around in the bathroom (the idiot hadn't even turned on the light – probably too drunk to remember the bathroom even _had_ a light) bumping into shit and cursing colourfully at the bathtub, mumbling about how somebody had moved the toilet on him, Dean got the remote, and first pick of the beds.

And that was really important this time, because when they'd been by to check in earlier, they'd noticed the comforter on one of the beds had a funky looking stain in the corner, and one of the legs on the bed was wobbly. And no way in hell was Dean sleeping on _that_ tonight.

He tugged off his jacket and shirt, kicked off his boots and out of his pants, leaving them all pooled on the floor where he stood. He paused for a moment, and then bent down to grab his cell out of his jacket, and sent off a quick text to Cas, letting him know where they were now, in case he needed them.

It took way too much concentration, and he spelled half the words wrong, and his vision started to swim a little, so he gave up before he was finished. He hit send anyway, and frowned. He'd definitely told Cas the city they were in, and their room number, but he might have left out the state, and the name of their motel.

He shrugged, and tossed his phone down on the dresser next to the television, and picked up the remote instead. Cas could call if he really needed them. He crossed the room and flopped down on the good bed, although in this dive, 'good' was a relative term, and flipped on the television.

There was nothing on. Of course. It was two o'clock in the fucking morning, and there was never anything on anyway, no matter what time it was. Except Thursday nights. That was when Dr. Sexy came on. So his choices were limited to sports recaps, the movie _Big_, and porn.

He'd never really been into sports, not enough to want to watch a recap anyway. It sort of came with not really having a home, and therefore not having any kind of home team to cheer for. He liked _Big_, but he'd seen it a dozen times. It was even on just last week, and he'd managed to watch almost half of it before they got a call from the county sheriff and had to take off. So, naturally, he settled on porn.

It was pretty bad porn, but hell it usually was. His dick didn't even so much as twitch at the action on the screen, but that was alright. Honestly, sometimes Dean just watched porn for something to watch, not necessarily to get himself off to. And this would do, for another ten minutes anyway, until he passed out.

Sam came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, suspiciously underdressed, and a little wet around his bangs. Dean raised an eyebrow at him, or tried to, but he was pretty sure it came out kind of dozy and fucked up, given he had very little control over his muscles. Especially the ones in his face.

Sam gave Dean his patented bitchface, and snorted, rocking slightly backward on his heels, and then more than slightly. Dean thought he might actually go over backwards, after a few seconds. Hoped so, cause that shit would be funny.

"What?" Sam asked, when Dean actually chuckled a little, imaging Sam in a banged up heap on the floor. Then he looked pointedly down at Sam's body, his body that was currently only wearing a pair of boxers, that when Dean looked closer, seemed to slightly wet around the waist. Sam sighed, and stumbled. "I think the tap's broken."

"Yeah, that's it. Couldn't possibly be that you're too drunk to work it properly." And sure, Dean's words were a little slurred, but at least he was standing up straight. Or, you know, he would have been if he was standing.

Sam stared at him for a moment, and then opened his mouth to say something witty, no doubt, but after several seconds, all he came up with, was "Screw you."

"Clever," Dean laughed, and hit a button on the remote, turning up the volume. Sam spun around so fast he almost lost his balance again, apparently just realising that the television was even on, and then he just as quickly spun back, looking at Dean like he smelled something bad.

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head, and starting for the bed. "No way in hell am I watching porn with my newly gay brother."

"Dude!" Dean shouted, and sat up, glaring at Sam. "I'm not gay!" Not that that should even matter, and especially not in anything even remotely related to watching porn with Sammy. "And what does that have to do with anything?"

Again, Sam opened his mouth to respond, but then he closed it again, frowning. He lunged down and grabbed the remote from Dean's fingers and then jumped away when Dean shouted "Hey!" and tried to grab it back.

Sam pointed it at the television to change the channel, but then paused, cocked his head as if he was really studying girl with long blonde hair and big tits getting fucked on a coffee table by some big hairy guy. "It's not _gay_ porn," he said, like it was some big revelation.

"Oh my _God_," Dean groaned, and jumped up, grabbing Sam from behind and spinning them, pushing him down on the bed to try to wrestle the remote from him. "I'm not gay, you freak," he told him, as Sam squirmed under him, and tried to climb up higher on the bed to get away from him. Dean gripped his arms tighter and tried to roll them so Sam was underneath him, so he'd be able to use his weight to hold him down while he grabbed the remote from his hand, but Sam was big, and Dean was drunk, so it didn't quite work.

He ended up with a knee in Sam's back and his elbow against the back of Sam's neck, but it wasn't enough to wrestle the remote free, so he gave up, gave Sam a shove for good measure, and rolled onto his back, hands crossed over his stomach, and looking at the television. "You're the one who fucking bitched at me tonight 'cause you thought I was gonna sleep with some skank. Now all of a sudden you think I'm only interested in cock?"

He scowled and kicked Sam's ankle, hard. "I know I'm fucking Cas now, but… Dude, he's… different. It's not guys, it's just… him. And I totally still want to fuck chicks!" He paused, frowned. "I mean… not like, actually fuck them, cause I'm, you know… Anyway, shut the fuck up. You know what I mean. Not gay."

Yeah, he made so much fucking sense when he was drunk.

Sam rolled over too, on his back next to Dean, and he shook his head, frowning. "Yeah," said, "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. Just…" he waved a hand around, as if that sloppy, drunken gesture explained everything. "Making fun of you is awesome, and sometimes this 'you and Cas' thing still seems really weird, and I'm… really drunk, and is that even possible?"

Dean jerked his head to the side, in Sam's direction and saw him now watching the bad porn with morbid fascination, conversation about Dean's gayness apparently forgotten. Dean snorted when he saw that Sam was referring to a new position on the screen that involved both parties being particularly bendy, and then he closed his eyes, letting the overly enthusiastic sounds start to lull him to sleep.

He felt Sam shift a little on the bed next to him, settling into it, getting comfortable. He wasn't making any move to go to his own bed, but Dean didn't say anything. It wasn't like they'd never shared a bed before, and as big a pain in the ass as Sam was, Dean thought it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make him sleep on whatever the fuck the motel management hadn't bothered to wash out of the blankets.

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked, after a few minutes of comfortable, sleepy silence.

"Yeah," Dean groaned, all slurred and almost asleep.

"I really am happy for you and Cas, you know."

Dean rolled his eyes, and even though they were closed, he was pretty sure Sam could see. "Shut up."

Within seconds, they were asleep.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, last part!

Part 15

***

After stops at four different hotels, that included a horribly embarrassing incident involving an amorous couple, and an invitation for Castiel to join them, he managed to find Dean. He'd decided to wait until late morning, because Dean's message had come late at night, and it hadn't made a lot of sense, and Castiel knew Dean well enough to know that that meant he would probably need to sleep for several hours.

It was after ten o'clock when he appeared inside Dean and Sam's room, and his normally stern expression softened at the sight of them. They were still asleep, which wasn't entirely a surprise, and they were on the same bed, blankets tangled up in two sets of long legs, with Dean curled up behind Sam, forehead pressed to Sam's back, and a hand on his shoulder.

Sam's face was buried in his pillow, and one of his legs was kicked back so that his heel was resting along Dean's shin. It made Castiel happy, to see them like this. So vulnerable, so close, the love and the trust they shared evident, even as they slept.

Things between then had been… shaky, for a while, but Castiel was glad to see they were doing better.

He cleared his throat, trying to wake them, but it didn't accomplish much, other than a slight murmur from Sam, and a small wiggle from Dean that only pushed him closer to his brother. Castiel smiled and lifted his hand out behind him, opening the room door without touching it, and then slamming it shut again.

The brothers jerked awake and pushed themselves up onto their elbows, blinking sleep-filled eyes and looking around the room for the source of the disruption to their sleep. They both saw Castiel at approximately the same time, and then twin looks of pain crossed their faces as the groaned, and fell back down on the bed.

Dean's arms were outstretched, and one of them landed with a thump across Sam's belly.

"Dude," he complained, and his voice was scratchy, rough from sleep and too much alcohol. "Get off me." He pushed at Dean's arm, and Dean pushed back, and then kneed Sam gently in the thigh.

"This is my bed, bitch. You get off," Dean returned, and he sounded equally done-in, and Sam didn't go anywhere.

Castiel raised an amused eyebrow, and glanced down their bodies at their states of undress, Sam only in his underwear, and Dean similarly dressed, but with a t-shirt as well. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked, and then looked over at Sam, who was looking back at him, when they both realised what this must look like. Oh, Castiel knew of course that it wasn't, and the brothers would know that, but Castiel was finding more and more that he enjoyed teasing them, joking with them. They did it to each other often, and it made Castiel feel… included. Like he belonged.

Besides, Dean was… easy. Quick to rise to bait, and Castiel found it much too amusing to play with him. If it was anyone but Dean, Castiel would feel guilty.

"Dude, gross!" Dean and Sam said, together, and scrunched up their noses, before Sam gave Dean one last shove and stood. He went to his bag and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol, swallowing two of the pills dry, before he tossed the bottle to Dean.

Castiel walked into the bathroom, and blinked at the mess he found there, water on the floor, toilet paper strewn across the counter, and wet clothes scattered in the tub, and he thought, vehemently, that he did _not_ want to know what had happened. There were certain times, when ignorance was preferable.

He liberated two of the wrapped plastic cups by the sink, and filled them with water, then wandered back into the main room, handing one to Dean, and then one to Sam, who mumbled their less than enthusiastic thanks.

"I've learned, though not through personal experience, that water helps," he told them.

"Is that like, the angel way of saying 'you should know better?'" Dean asked, grinning slightly around his sip of water.

Castiel tilted his head slightly, and almost smiled. "I'm only trying to take care of you, Dean," he said softly, and just the slightest bit patronising. Because he knew Dean didn't like to be taken care of. Or rather, didn't like to _acknowledge_ that he was being taken care of.

But he also knew that Dean secretly enjoyed the idea that Castiel was thinking of him, that he cared.

Dean blushed, confirming Castiel's thoughts, and his grin widened as his eyes dropped to the bed. Sam groaned, and pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against, and headed toward the bathroom.

"I'm gonna leave you two alone for a few minutes, so you can recite each other sonnets, or… fuck, or whatever," he threw over his shoulder. When he almost tripped over a shoe just inside the bathroom door, Dean laughed.

"Holy shit," Sam gasped, when he turned on the light, and just before he closed the door. "What the hell did I _do_ in here?"

***

For the rest of the day, the three of them stayed in the room. They watched television, though Castiel had turned off the porn (that was still playing from the night before) quickly after Sam went to shower. They talked, about nothing of consequence, though Dean and Sam got into a heated debate over who was hotter, Darryl Hannah, (because Splash was on) or Sharon Stone (because they'd flicked past a re-run of the episode of TJ Hooker episode that she was in).

When asked his opinion, Castiel told them that he preferred Glenn Close, and the brothers were so shocked that he even knew who she was, that they settled on watching Mars Attacks, for the next hour and a half.

Dean and Sam munched cautiously on a package of crackers that Castiel had found in the trunk of Dean's car, and later, when Dean announced that he was feeling more 'human' again, they did a small amount of research.

Castiel did leave around mid-afternoon for a few minutes, just long enough to make a trip to a convenience store, and brought back tea for Sam, and ginger ale for Dean. Castiel then pointed out to Dean that he was not, in fact, a 'shitty boyfriend', like Dean had claimed a couple of weeks ago, because it seemed important.

This, with Dean, was all new for him, and Castiel was doing his best. Trying to be what Dean needed, just like Dean was what he needed.

Sam laughed when Dean told him to 'Shut up. Nobody's _boyfriends_, okay?' and Castiel smiled. Because he knew better.

By suppertime they were feeling well enough to eat something, and the three of them went out for food.

It seemed that Dean was feeling well enough for more than just eating, because throughout their meal he sat much too close to Castiel to be publicly decent, touched him every chance he got, and looked at him with such promise that Castiel shivered in anticipation of what could possibly come, once Dean finished his tuna salad.

By the time they got back to their motel, Castiel was beginning to return some of Dean's advances. Not overtly, but to the point where when he kissed Dean outside the door to their room, Dean's persistence ultimately paying off, Sam announced that he was going to get his own room for the night.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, pulling Castiel closer and deepening the kiss, even as he unlocked and opened the door with his free hand. "That's a good idea, Sammy," he mumbled, between kisses. "Come by in the morning." He didn't wait for a response, just grabbed Castiel's tie, and pulled him into the room, kicking the door shut behind them.

***

Dean gasped, and bucked forward when Cas nipped on his jaw, and pinched one nipple gently between this thumb and forefinger. The pads of his fingers were soft, stupidly soft, and Dean pressed into them everywhere he touched him, over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach.

It hadn't taken them long to get naked and horizontal once they were inside the room, and now they were lying on their sides, blankets bunched up and wrinkled around them from their collapse to the bed, and several long seconds of frantic rolling and rutting before they slowed down to a more leisurely pace.

There was no hurry, and neither of them was feeling particularly needy, given they'd gotten each other off two days ago, and Dean wanted to take his time. This was the first time in a month they'd had a room to themselves for the entire night, and there was no way in hell this was just going to end in mindless rutting, or blow jobs.

No, they were gonna have sex, and it was gonna be awesome.

Seemed like Cas was on the same page, because he swivelled his hips, bringing his hard cock into a long, slow glide against Dean's, and grabbed the outside of Dean's thigh, pulling it up over his hip, giving him better leverage, and better contact.

"Cas," Dean groaned, the name barely a whisper on his lips as they pressed against Cas', and his fingers tightened almost violently against Cas' hip. "Fuck."

"That is the idea, Dean," Cas drawled, and it was amazing how much his voice changed when he was like this. Still hard, but so, so smooth, with an edge of need, vulnerability, and contentedness. He let his hand slide over the swell of Dean's ass, a gentle caress before it moved inward, fingers grabbing hold of the cheek and pulling, exposing Dean's hole to the warm air.

Dean sucked in a breath as Cas kept going, fingers walking across the flesh until they were nudging at his entrance. But as the first tip of the first finger pushed its way inside, Dean froze up, his body suddenly tense, his hips no longer working to rub his erection against Cas'.

It was the worst possible timing, because he really just wanted to let go and enjoy this, enjoy Cas, and the little time they had to actually be alone together, but the second he was hit with the physical implications that Cas was going to be inside him, again, Sam's words from the other day started to play through his head.

"What is it?" Cas asked him, pulling back slightly to get a better look at Dean's face, hands stilling and suddenly serious.

Cas was sweet, but sometimes he could take the protective thing too far.

Dean sighed, stroked his hand up Cas' arm, and tilted his head in again, kissing Cas softly on the mouth. "Sam thinks I need to fuck you," he said, in a rush, and then felt all kinds of retarded. And he was pretty sure his skin was turning an embarrassing shade of pink.

He felt the slight crinkle in Castiel's forehead against his own, as the angel tried to puzzle out the meaning behind those words. He failed.

"We've been… fucking… for a month, Dean. And perhaps my technique is not quite as formidable as yours is, but… that's actually what I was trying to do, right now."

Dean made mild sort of groaning noise deep in his throat, mostly the result of the horror of actually having to talk about this. But hell, he knew Cas wasn't going to let it go, and the fact was, Dean sort of didn't want to either. Because he wanted to be the one doing the fucking tonight.

"No, I mean… He thinks I need to… top. Prove a point. You know… make myself feel more manly, or whatever."

"And what do you think?" Cas asked him, irritatingly neutral, like they were talking about the whether, instead of Cas' ass cherry.

"I think Sam's an idiot," Dean told him. "And I'm plenty manly as it is. But… I'd like to. I'm not saying we have to," Dean quickly added. "And I'm not saying it has to be tonight, just… Yeah. I want it to be an option, you know?"

Cas pulled back slightly again, and frowned, puzzled. _Cas is confused. There's a surprise_, Dean thought, sarcastically.

"I don't understand."

"Understand what?" Dean asked him, even though he knew he was going to regret it. This conversation just couldn't be going anywhere good.

"You're far prettier than I am, Dean," Cas explained, tone patient and face in a serious line. "Delicate, and you require my protection. I am dominant. Shouldn't that make me the… top?"

Dean's jaw literally dropped, and his eyes went wide, because what the _fuck_?! Dean wasn't fucking delicate, and he'd been just fine before Cas came along. Fucking better, in fact, except for the whole being in hell thing, but whatever.

Then he snapped his mouth shut and his teeth clenched so tightly that he heard the slight creak of bone rubbing against bone. His hands balled up into tight fists, and he breathed out long and slow through his nose, trying very, very hard not to punch Cas in the nose, because nobody, not even Cas, got away with saying shit like that to him.

And then he saw it. The corner of Cas' very serious looking mouth started to twitch, and the lines around his eyes became more noticeable in the way they only were when he was happy, and he knew that Cas was fighting to keep a smile off his face.

"You _fucker_!" Dean said, smacking Cas hard on the arm, and fighting a smile of his own. "Cas, being top and bottom isn't about dominance. Not… not in real relationships. It's about what you like. Besides, you're damn pretty too, pal. Wouldn't look half-bad on the receiving end of things."

And boy howdy would he ever not look bad. Dean absently licked his lips and his eyes dropped as he thought about seeing Cas spread out under him, Dean's hard cock pumping in and out of his perfectly shaped ass. _Fuck_. Dean had never felt so gay in entire life. Oh, they were so doing this.

"Are we… in a relationship, Dean?" Cas' quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. And sure, it just figured that _that_ would be the part that Cas would focus on.

"That's not…" Dean sighed, and shook his head. It wasn't that he was avoiding the subject. Except that he really was. "Look, the point is, you don't just automatically fall into a role because you're older or stronger. You do what you like."

"I have first hand experience to prove that you like to… bottom. Although the phrasing of such things baffles me. The last two times that we had sex, you were on top of me. So why is it that you're feeling threatened about your role in our sex life?"

"Dude!" Dean cried, finally pulling away from Cas altogether, and pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at him. He still felt ridiculous, having a conversation like this naked and hard and a foot away from a guy he really wanted to fuck. "Okay, I don't even know where to start with that. First of all, that's not '_my role'_. We've only done it three times. There's plenty of room for switching things up, here. Also? Not threatened. At all."

Cas' eyes lowered, and he looked almost ashamed. "I'm sorry." He sounded so sincere that it about broke Dean's heart. He didn't want Cas feeling bad about this shit, because there was nothing to feel bad about. Their sex life was great. More than great. And Dean was happy. "I thought that by taking a more aggressive approach, it would show you how much I want you. Make you feel needed, loved. And you are, Dean. So much."

"Aw, Cas," Dean said, and it came out as more of a whine than he was strictly comfortable with. His body was tense with the need to reach out to Cas, kiss him and cover him with his hands, his mouth, _him_, until this whole stupid issue went away. "That's not… We're good. Okay?" And then Dean leaned down, kissed Cas on the corner of his mouth and placed his hand on his stomach. "I know. I know you love me, and it's really not a big deal who does what here, Cas, as long as we both have fun."

Cas raised an eyebrow, and Dean barked out a nervous laugh.

"Okay, so I'm not sayin' I don't want my share of turns in the driver's seat, but… So far, it's been amazing. And I'm… I'm actually glad that it happened the way it did, the first time." He paused, and cocked his head, lifted his eyebrows quirked up the corner of his mouth. "And the second time, and the third time…"

And he was. It had been scary, giving up control like that, in such a blatant way, but when he really thought about it, Cas had had control of him, in a lot of ways, for a long time. Oh, Dean liked to argue, liked to rebel, but ultimately, he'd do what Cas wanted, if it was important enough. Just like he knew Cas would do for him. Which was probably why he was so willing to let himself be vulnerable with him in the first place.

Cas smiled up at him, and Dean decided the conversation was just about over. He crawled over Cas, pinning him to the bed, wrapped his hands around Cas' wrists and held them over his head, pressed against the pillow. Cas' breath hitched, and his whole body shuddered, when Dean rotated his hips, and his cock twitched against Dean's with renewed interest.

"So yeah," he said, voice suddenly dropping an octave, low and coarse, before dragged his tongue from Cas' collar bone, along his neck, and up to the underside of his jaw. "I like to bottom. And thank you, by the way, for helping me with that little discovery. But I like to top too." He rolled his hips again, and Cas' eyes fluttered shut, his mouth opening on a small gasp of pleasure. "And I'm pretty good at it."

"Why do I…" Cas started, and paused, groaning and going almost limp as Dean worked his legs apart and slid between them, thrust a few times against Cas' cock, painting the shaft with pre-come. "Why do I get the distinct impression that… that your boasting is not unfounded?"

Dean smirked, then kissed him, long and deep, pushing his tongue inside Cas' mouth, swirling it around Cas' and licking behind his teeth, tasting him.

"Nobody ever said you weren't smart, Cas," Dean told him, dragging his kisses across Cas' jaw line, and nipping under his ear. "Now," he growled, teeth closing down over Cas' neck sharply, biting to almost the point of pain before releasing him. "Let me show you."

"Dean…" Cas moaned, and his hands moved over Dean's back, kneading the muscle on the way down, and coming to rest on Dean's ass. "I don't know if…" He sounded… not scared, not exactly. Just… unsure.

Unsure, because he knew that this, this way of doing it, with Dean penetrating Cas, would give Dean the chance to show Cas exactly how he felt. That it would be Dean's way of expressing his emotions, and Cas was scared that it wouldn't turn out to be what he hoped.

Dean's heart contracted painfully in his chest, felt light and heavy at the same time. He made an executive decision in that split second. He was keeping Cas, for fucking ever. He wasn't going to even think about letting him go, not in this mortal coil, and not even after. When Cas got called home, and when Dean died, Dean was going to fight his way into heaven kicking and screaming if that was what it took, because Cas was _his_.

"I wasn't asking," Dean told him, and his hand clamped down tightly on Cas' hip. He paused for a heartbeat, then another, as he looked into Cas' eyes, the usual bright blue overtaken by black, as his pupils dilated with arousal. They both knew that Dean wouldn't just take, if Cas didn't want this, but _God_, he'd have a hard time walking away.

Hell, Dean physically _couldn't_ just take. Cas was _way_ stronger than he was, and that fact was hitting Dean like a tonne of fucking bricks, because… wow. He had an angel under him. An honest to fucking God _angel_, underneath him, legs spread and moaning, canting his hips toward Dean's, silently begging for pleasure.

And Cas could do whatever he wanted, could deny Dean, could take Dean instead, could put a stop to this whole thing and walk away like it had been a mistake, but he wasn't. He wouldn't. He was willing to give everything to Dean, like he kept saying, like they both knew already, only now it was more real. His physical strength was meaningless in the realm of emotion, and Dean knew, without a doubt, that in this aspect of their relationship, Dean had the upper hand.

Cas jerked his head down, one stilted movement, and his fingers slid across Dean's shoulders, slowly. "I am in your hands, Dean."

Dean growled. Full-on _growled_, because hell the fuck yeah, and his hand tightened around Cas' hip bone, blunt fingernails digging into the perfect flesh as he lifted and twisted, Cas pliant and yielding under him, and flipped him over onto his stomach.

"Gonna take good care of you," Dean promised, the words holding more weight than even he'd thought possible. "Gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you _mine_."

Cas arched his back as Dean ran one fingertip slowly down his spine, the skin under his touch raising up in small pebbles. "I am already yours, Dean.'

"Yeah," Dean smiled, and leaned forward, resting the entire weight of his body along Cas' back. He kissed the back of his neck, lips first, a chaste pucker, and then tongue, small circles, getting larger, and then he sucked, sharp and hard, pulling the blood to the surface, marking him.

It wouldn't last long. Minutes, at best, and Dean wanted to tell him not to heal it. Ever. But Cas was right; he was Dean's, and that meant that Dean could mark him, over and over again, in new and creative places, whenever he liked. "Yeah, you really are."

"Dean, please," Cas breathed out, pressing his hips back so that Dean's cock slipped inside his crack, fitting snugly between his cheeks. "Make me yours. Show me."

Dean thrust forward, the tip of his dick sliding long and deep in the warm crevice, and he bit his lip, body tight with the need to just push inside, to take like this, hard and fast.

"Wait right here," he murmured into Cas' ear, punctuating the order by dragging his tongue along the outside of the shell. Cas hummed happily and nodded, and Dean smiled into his neck and got up, shivering at the sudden chill of no longer having Cas pressed against his skin.

He quickly crossed the room to his bag, and riffled through it, finding the tube of lube he'd bought two days after he and Cas had first fucked. He hadn't even opened it yet. He unscrewed the cap on his way back to the bed and peeled off the foil, letting it flutter to the ground.

Cas turned his head to watch him, head pillowed on his hands, and blinked at him, slow and lazy, so damn seductive without even trying to be, and Dean felt his balls tighten and tingle, and his cock twitched and bounced excitedly against his belly.

Dean's mouth went dry as he sat back down on the bed, kneeling between Cas' slightly spread legs, and he placed one hand of the back of Cas' knee. He slid the hand up slowly, licking his lips as he went, felt Cas' skin tighten and twitch under his touch, the soft hairs sticking up slightly in his wake.

"Kneel up a bit," Dean said, his hand sliding to the outside of Cas' hip, encouraging him. "Oh, God," he groaned, when Cas obeyed him immediately, bending his knees even more, and canting his hips back. He could see the tiny hint of rosy flesh between Cas' cheeks, and it took every once of self control he possessed, not to just crush Cas to the mattress, and sink inside. "You're gonna kill me, Cas. Want you."

Cas' eyes fluttered closed, and his lips parted, soft breath blowing out against his shoulder as his head craned around to face Dean. "Have me."

"_Fuck_." Dean adjusted his position behind Cas and squirted some of the lube out onto his fingers before tossing the tube next to him on the bed. He placed his free hand at the base of Cas' spine to steady him, and ran his lube-slick fingers down Cas' crack, biting his lip when Cas shook under him, and pushed his hips back for a firmer contact with Dean's hand.

Dean sucked in a breath, held it without even realising it as he slowly, oh so slowly, sank his middle finger inside Cas' hole. The walls clung to him, fluttered around him, tight and warm, and Dean's cock hardened ever more.

He worked the finger in and out, wiggled it around a bit, the hand on Cas' back still there to gauge his reactions, but all he felt was Cas, relaxed and rocking against him, no hit of pain or even mild discomfort. Good. He worked in a second finger, pumping it in and out along with the first, and after a painfully long time, he started to work in a third.

Cas was moaning under him now, writhing and pushing back in earnest, trying to get Dean in further, trying to get more, trying to get something he couldn't get with just fingers, but Dean wanted to make sure he was completely ready, before he fucked him blind. When Cas first did this to him it had _hurt_, and he didn't want Cas to hurt. Not even a little.

Not this time, anyway. Cas was putting a lot of trust in him right now, and he didn't want to take advantage. Maybe next time he could take things a little quicker, rougher, just let loose and take what he wanted. Make him hurt, make him beg, make him bleed. _God_ that would be good.

And in that instant, Dean understood the allure of gay sex, even more than he already head. He didn't have to be careful. Cas was a man, was more than a man. Was stronger than fuck, and after the first time, Dean could be a rough as he liked. Because Cas could take it. He wasn't weaker, wasn't significantly smaller. Dean could let loose, and not worry about damage.

Next time.

"Dean," Cas said, his quiet voice breaking through Dean's daydream, and he started, realising he'd stopped his movements, and began slowly sliding his fingers inside again. "This amount of preparation is unnecessary," he said, and he sounded winded, aroused and needy. _Fuck_, it sounded good. "I can heal faster than any human, I have been stabbed in the heart, and it was nothing more than inconvenient. You are… impressively built, Dean, but I hardly think you're either big, or strong, enough, to cause me more damage than I'm capable of tolerating, even with the lessening of my powers."

Dean chuckled behind him and pulled his fingers free, nodding and grabbing the lube to squeeze out some more onto his hand, and slick up his cock. "You know Cas," he said, and shuffled forward on his knees. "You really need to work on your dirty talk."

He didn't give Cas the chance to respond to that. He grabbed the base of his cock and angled it down, rubbed the slippery tip over Cas' balls, and then up, along his crack and placed it at Cas' entrance. The hole started to open for him under the barest amount of pressure, and he clenched his teeth as he started to push, so fucking gently that it was killing him.

He moved his hands to Cas' ass cheeks and pulled them open for a better view, watched as Cas took him in, his tiny opening growing and clenching the more Dean pushed. Soon the entire head was inside, Cas' ring of flesh shrinking slightly and closing over the top of his shaft once the widest part was inside.

Holy fuck, Dean was not going to fucking last. This was so God damned hot it was fucking _criminal_. And okay, he'd fucked people in the ass before, but those had been girls. Small, weaker than him, and this was so much better than that. More exhilarating, made him feel more powerful. Of course, he knew his real power was in the way Cas felt about him, how much he loved him, even if Dean was reluctant to face that love head on.

He'd get there, he knew. Get comfortable enough to take Cas' love at face value, and do a better job of expressing his own. They had time. There was still a little part of him, a small voice in the back of his head that was freaking out over everything, because he was having sex, exclusively, with a _guy_.

But yeah, that part was small, and getting smaller every day, and this, Cas, was worth a little bit of confusion.

"Fuck me, Dean," Cas said from underneath him, his words hoarse and rough, an order that promised severe consequences if Dean didn't obey. A tremor wracked Dean's body and he gripped Cas' hips tight. "Now."

And Dean did.

He slammed his hips forward, hard and fast, buried himself up to the hilt in one swift motion, and Cas was stiff and tense around him for a split second, before going almost boneless, moaning load and being held up mostly by Dean's grip.

Dean pulled back and snapped forward again, balls slapping loud and sharp against Cas', and yeah, he was right before; there was no way this was going to last. He wasn't even going to try. He fucked Cas in earnest, and managed to released his death grip on Cas' right hip enough to slide his hand down, wrap it around his erection, stiff and soft, like silk over steel, and started to jerk him in time with his thrusts.

Dean's hand was still a bit slick from the lube, and Cas was pretty wet already all on his own, so the motions were easy, fluid, and Cas worked himself between Dean's hand and Dean's cock, tilting his hips forward and back as Dean moved around him.

"Dean," Cas ground out, and he sounded so gone, so rough and sex-hazed that it was a wonder Dean didn't come on the spot. "I'm not going to last long," he warned, and Dean tried to smile, but the pleasure through his body was so much that it came out twisted.

"That's okay, Cas," he assured him. "Neither am I." He bent over then, folded his upper body around Cas, pushed his chest down against Cas' back, and slid the hand was wasn't jerking him off, up his chest, fingers tickling over a nipple as they went, and stopped when his hand was around Cas' neck, fingers and thumb far apart, and pressing gently to feel the pulse of blood through his body.

Cas sucked in a sharp breath, and Dean flicked his fingers up, turned Cas' chin with significant force, fingers pressing against his jawbone so hard it would bruise, and crushed his mouth against Cas'. Cas opened his mouth, letting Dean in, letting Dean assault him, rough and sloppy, all tongue and teeth, as they rutted together, chasing orgasm.

Dean got there first, big surprise, and he slammed inside Cas hard, as far as he could get, and with a few jerky presses of his hips he was coming, crying out wordlessly and filling Cas up. Cas followed soon after, once Dean had come down enough to resume the stroking on Cas' dick that he'd been too blown away to continue through his own orgasm, and came in a rush, covering Dean's hand with sticky, white spend.

Dean laughed out loud when Cas stopped spasming around him, pulled back and slapped him playfully on the ass, before wrapping an arm around his chest, and falling to the bed, tugging Cas down with him.

"That was fucking _awesome_," he told him, smiling, and rolling Cas over, so he was nestled in the crook of his arm, with his head resting on Dean's shoulder. He held him, warm and snug against his side for a few seconds, while Cas placed wide, open-mouthed kisses on his chest. Then he held him for a few seconds longer.

Eventually though, it started to feel a little too girly, so he gently lifted Cas up, and pulled his arm back. Cas didn't complain, just smiled knowingly at him and laid down on his back, next to Dean.

"Uh…" Dean said hesitatingly, after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "Um, hey Cas?" Dean had something to say, something he'd been keeping inside for a while, and something that he wanted Cas to know, but… Oh, fuck, saying this shit out loud was just uncomfortable. Like… some kind of unusual torture. It fucking grated to even _think_ pansy ass shit like that, but to _talk_ about it? Fuck no. That wasn't his style.

Still, he sort of felt like Cas deserved to hear it.

"Yes Dean?"

"This? You and me? We're… I mean… it is. What you asked before. A relationship. You know?" Oh, God, kill him now.

"I know," Cas answered, and Dean felt Cas' knuckles brush against his thigh.

"I mean," he said, fidgeting uncomfortably, and sneaking a glance at Cas out of the corner of his eye. "You're my… my boyfriend."

"I know," he said, again, and Dean could hear the beginnings of a smile in his voice.

Dean sighed, and figured he might as well go for broke. "Cas?" he whispered, and turned his head to place a kiss on Cas' lips. Here went nothing. "I love you."

Cas pulled the blankets up over them both, and curled into Dean's side, smiled against his cheek, and Dean was certain, for the first time, _absolutely certain_, that this was right. "I know."

END

That's all kids! Thanks for coming along for the ride:)


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